


Interpersonal

by eikyuu



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, Lots of Cliches, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Slow Build, ace!abby, are you wondering if anyone in this is straight, bi!erin, bi!patty, brief mentions of homophobia, erin is oblivious to people liking her, holtzmann is very gay, if you like your fics without OCs then this is not the one for you, sort of, the answer is no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-10 08:46:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7838215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eikyuu/pseuds/eikyuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>adjective<br/>of or relating to relationships or communication between people</p>
<p>Erin Gilbert thought that being a Ghostbuster would bring her closer to the paranormal, but instead it brings her closer to other people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in almost five years, but this movie has inspired me. It's unbeta'd, so I apologize for the occasional mistake that's bound to be in here. Also, I have done very little research while writing this, but I don't really care lol I just winged 95% of it

_‘The events of last night have been retold a hundred times already, from a hundred different eye-witnesses, and this article will serve as my version, New York. There was lightning, fire, and strange lights swirling around the air. The ground shook underfoot like the earth itself was breaking apart, but nothing could compare to the screams that cut through the night, or the terrifying apparitions that inspired them. What really happened? No one can say with certainty, but at the end of the night, one thing is for sure, it was four women standing on the front steps of the Mercado with their heads held high—‘_

 

It had been six months since the ‘ _Fourth Cataclysm’_ incident, but Erin still liked to read the articles from time to time. It reminded her that no matter the dead-ends in their research, or the people who called them frauds, that her work was not only applicable, it had saved all of New York, maybe even the world.

 

A series of hitches and big breakthroughs and even bigger hitches regarding her recent ectoplasm theory had left her restless lately, and so Erin had woken at five in the morning and was currently sitting in her bed, trying to work up her enthusiasm for the day. Progress. She was going to make _so much_ progress today.

 

It felt a lot like the universe was against her, because just as soon as the coffee was brewed, the books were opened, and Erin’s pen was touched to the paper, Abby called her downstairs to meet their latest clients.

 

The report, rehashed by Abby, described a vapor, _barely_ a class three, _somewhat_ manifested into a physical form, which had been playing _mostly_ harmless pranks on members of a local gym. Apparently, complaints had poured in earlier in the month to the co-owners of _Terry’s_ : stories of towels and clothes disappearing from the locker room, treadmills speeding up drastically and suddenly, racks of dumbbells collapsing dangerously close to people doing sit-ups. Needless to say, the occurrences themselves and the rumors they generated were hurting business.

 

Terry was almost Kevin’s height and build, with a short, tight haircut, while Liza was about Erin’s size, with wide green eyes and curly hair down to her waist. Abby had greeted the pair and invited them to sit at the big garage-sale desk that currently doubled as their dining table, and the trio were quickly joined by Erin. Once the details had been sorted, Patty came downstairs to introduce herself. Holtz, still buried under piles of miscellaneous prototypes, chose to let the girls handle the meet and greet and simply fill her in later.

 

* * *

 

 

The team scoured the tiny building early the next morning and left one ghost richer only an hour later. He had been a puny thing: a pair of eyes dominated the facial region, while two comically large hands floated separately of the main body. The ensuing struggle, which had begun in the free-weights area, and ended in a shower stall of the men’s locker room, had been laughable when compared to the events of half a year earlier. Erin had only a splotch of slime on her shoulder to show for it, and Holtz had been able to make just two wise cracks before they’d wrestled the ghost into a trap. Even Abby seemed unenthused about it.

 

They met the owners outside the gym, and Patty held up the trap triumphantly. “We got him, no big deal.” She grinned, hoping to reassure them.

 

Terry and Liza, who had invested their entire savings into the gym, didn’t seem to agree that it was “no big deal”. They were so grateful that they had given each of the Ghostbusters a lifetime membership in addition to happily paying the fees. While Abby and Patty had thanked them earnestly for the offer, Erin was fairly sure they wouldn’t be returning. Patty had a stationary bike back at the firehouse which, according to her, was adjusted and well-loved to perfection, and she could read her books while she rode it. Abby preferred occasional arm-curls with ten-pound weights, and walks, whenever she could find the time. It was Holtz who took an interest.

 

 “This is perfect! I’ve been meaning to swole-up,” she had said, puffing out her chest and holding up an arm so she could pretend to flex. Terry had laughed in response to this, and clapped Holtz on the shoulder, nearly knocking her over.

 

When Liza had turned to Erin and asked if she would be coming back too, she’d stuttered out a string of noncommittal words in reply. Erin was fit enough, wiry muscle from an old habit of daily runs that had only died when she’d become too busy with her career. She had no real desire to go to a gym in her spare time.

 

Within a couple weeks, Holtzmann’s daily gym visits were lost in the constant shuffle of busts and research and movie nights. It was something she went and did, and there wasn’t much more to it. That was, until one afternoon when Erin was enthusiastically writing out some new equation and triple and _quadruple_ -checking her math, when Holtzmann unceremoniously propped one chunky boot up on the stool beside the physicist. “Got a minute?”

 

Erin set her pen down, reluctantly, but found that whenever Holtzmann required her attention, she could do little but give it. She swiveled in her desk chair to face her. “Yeah?”

 

“So I’ve been wondering if you would be my gym buddy.”

 

Erin’s reaction was to furrow her brows and stare quizzically. “What? Why?”

 

“Hear me out,” Holtz moves to hop on the stool, one knee drawn up to her chest. “Abby and Patty both do their own thing, which I can respect, but you seem to have no prior workout commitments. I’d like a pal to come to the gym with me. You know, keep me company on the treadmill, spot me on the bench-press,” she mimes raising the barbell over her chest. “Would that interest you at all?”

 

Would it interest Erin to see Holt’s bare arms flexing as she lifted weights? Yes. Would it be especially appealing to accompany her to the gym and work out? No, not really.

 

“Would you be willing to go just once? See if you could tolerate it? It would make my gym experience complete if I had a companion.”

 

“I thought you were totally fine with going solo?” Erin questioned, attempting to ignore the fact that her hands were sweaty.

 

“Well, now that the novelty has run out for me, I think I’d enjoy it more if I had someone around who I feel comfortable with.” Holtz said it so earnestly that Erin’s heartbeat speed up, just a little.

 

With a huff, and a forlorn glance at the scratch paper on her desk, Erin conceded. “And if I don’t like it…?”

 

Holtz’s excitement was palpable. “You don’t have to come back ever again, scouts honor.”

 

Erin considered the proposition one more time before she finally said yes. Worst case scenario, she’d be a little sore tomorrow.

 

“Fabulous!” Holtz whooped and used her foot to push off on the desk and do a celebratory spin on the stool. “Get your yoga pants on, we’re leaving in ten!” And with that she’s off, running up the stairs two at a time with a grin plastered to her face. Erin can’t really imagine why Holtzmann is so excited about a gym buddy, but the thought that it has anything to do with _her specifically_ leaves her on the verge of heart palpitations. She tries to convince herself that it’s just because Abby and Patty couldn’t go instead.

 

Erin gets to her room on the third floor and digs around her closet for adequate workout clothes. She decides on a t-shirt from a science collaborative she’d been a part of in grad school, and her favorite pair of leggings. Once she pulled her hair into a ponytail and managed to dislodge her tennis shoes from underneath a pile of discarded heels, she deemed herself as ready as she’d ever be.

 

By the time Erin came back downstairs, Holtz was waiting, wearing a muscle shirt made from an old Back to The Future t-shirt which featured a faded graphic of Doc jumping out of the DeLorean beside big block letters that spelled out “Great Scott!” Her curls were pushed back by a thick sweatband.

 

She appraised Erin as the brunette took the last few steps down the stairs. “Nice getup, let’s move out!” She made an animated gesture to the double doors of the firehouse and started marching for them without looking back, assuming she would be followed. Erin scrambled to keep the pace.

 

They walked briskly down the street for a few blocks before they reached the gym, nestled between two larger brick-faced buildings. Erin hadn’t realized just how close it was to the headquarters, no more than a ten minute walk. The outside was as she’d remembered, the big red letters spelling out _Terry’s Gym_ on the sign above the door. The receptionist, a blonde girl with a pixie cut, smiled and waved them both through without checking them in. Erin briefly wondered if Terry had little photos of all four Ghostbusters taped to the desk so that the staff could know.

 

It was so different than it was during the bust, the lights were dimmed down and the televisions and the stereos were both on, the sounds helped fill the space. Erin had imagined swarms of people on every available machine, but on a Thursday afternoon there were only a handful occupied. Holtz put up her duffel bag in the locker room and turned to Erin.

 

“Got anything in mind?” she asks, glancing around the mostly-empty gym. “Maybe take turns on the rowing machine? I could hold down your feet while you do sit-ups? You could sit on my back while I do push-ups?” The last proposal was said with a flirtatious smirk and wiggled eyebrows that told Erin it was definitely a joke, but she also wasn’t sure that Holtz _couldn’t_ do that. It took her a second before she could form sentences. Her face felt warm.

 

“Can we maybe just start with the elliptical machines?” She points to the aforementioned machines. They’re a little more vigorous than a treadmill, and there are a pair located snugly in the corner of the room, away from everyone else.

 

“Lead the way.”

 

Holtz follows Erin closely, attempting to untangle the headphones clutched in her hands. They each take an elliptical and adjust the resistance and incline, and then Holtz is humming to _Dancing Queen_ and Erin is silently wondering why she’s even here, when she’s obviously being ignored.

 

Despite this, she’s pleasantly surprised to discover that she _likes_ running on the elliptical, it feels familiar to the hours she’d spent running through her neighborhood after school, until the wind had dried her eyes, and her heart was beating fast from exercise instead of anxiety. Except now she wasn’t a sixteen-year-old with too many bullies to name, now she was a somewhat-respected scientist who was at the gym with her attractive colleague, who was currently snubbing her in favor of _Girls Just Wanna Have Fun_.

 

Eventually, about twenty minutes in, Holtzmann stepped off her machine and smiled at Erin before going over to the free weights. Erin could see her from the position of the elliptical, and watched her do all sorts of arm curls, sit-ups, pull-ups and squats. She almost tripped off the machine a couple times from lack of focus and coordination, but the imagery was pretty worth it. Erin had to tear her eyes away after a while, berating herself.

 

A ‘gay crisis’ wasn’t the problem. She was at peace with her bisexuality, after all it was a much easier truth to deal with than many others in her life had been. And Holtz’s relentless play-flirting was something she could live with, she accepted this as simply part of the package deal of being around her. What wasn’t acceptable was that they were teammates, close friends and, most importantly, _Holtz wasn’t actually pursuing her romantically_. It was a recipe for disaster or disappointment, and something that Erin had actively tried to quash, or at the very, _very_ least hide.

 

It was nearly impossible though, to _not_ be attracted to her. And god had Erin _tried_ not to be. But Jillian Holtzmann was just so strange, and so brilliant, and so completely unlike anyone Erin had ever met. She was quiet but intuitive, she knew how to offer advice and comfort in small gestures, and she also knew how to put people at ease around her with her horrible jokes and off-beat charisma. She knew her strengths and accepted her weaknesses, and she constantly strove to be better. Sometimes she smiled so big and so sincerely that all Erin could do was stare. But other than actively avoiding Holtzmann, there was no viable long-term solution. It was misery.

 

Erin was interrupted from her reverie by the beeping of the elliptical machine telling her that she had completed a forty-five minute section. She slowly dismounted and made her way to her companion, only to be stopped by a familiar woman. Terry smiled wide as she recognized Erin, obviously pleased that she’d come back after all.

 

“Nice to see you again, Dr. Gilbert. Are you enjoying your workout?” She’s so sincerely nice that Erin doesn’t feel intimidated by her stature. She tries to return the pleasant tone.

 

“Oh. Yes, I really enjoy the, uh, fusion of Maury Povich and Metallica.” The mashup of TV channels and musical choice was actually pretty amusing, despite the fact that she had been whole-heartedly ogling Holtzmann rather than paying any attention to either of these things. Terry laughed anyway, which was a warm, hearty sound. She patted Erin’s shoulder and told her that she’d be around if there was anything she needed before disappearing into her office. Erin looked back to where Holtzmann had just been, only to see her mess of blonde hair disappearing into the locker room.

 

After an awkward five-minute wait, Holtz suddenly reappeared at Erin’s side with her bag hoisted up on her shoulder. “You ready?” Erin cleared her throat to mask her surprise and smiled, and they left the gym shoulder to shoulder. The evening air was comparatively warm to the gym as it hit Erin’s face, but she welcomed the sensation of defrosting.

 

“So, what’s the verdict? Was it awful? Amazing?” Holtz looks hopeful.

 

“It…definitely _wasn’t_ awful.” Erin says carefully. “I might even consider a second trip.” Before Jillian can say anything, Erin adds “On one condition: you have to actually interact with me while we’re there. Talk to me.”

 

Holtz considers this request for a moment. “Sure thing. Sorry that I didn’t today, I just didn’t want to seem...overeager. I know you have issues with adjusting to new things, so I wanted to leave you be and let you get into a groove on your own, instead of making you feel like you were just my accessory while I worked out.”

 

That was surprisingly well-thought-out approach, and it made Erin conflicted to know that Holtzmann knew exactly how to handle her for maximum positive outcome. It was nice that she knew her that well, but unfair that Erin couldn’t exactly do the same. Holtz was pretty impossible to anticipate.

 

“So, you _did_ have a good time working out, right? I really did want to get you to try the gym because I think you could use an outlet to reduce all that stress.”

 

Erin rolled her shoulders, and found that perhaps she _was_ less tense now. Her body was still thrumming pleasantly with the extra blood-flow. “Yeah, I think I actually would feel better if I started working out regularly again,” she muses.

 

They go the rest of the walk in comfortable silence, and when they get into the firehouse Holtzmann breaks into a sprint up the stairs. “I call first shower!”

 

Erin sinks into the couch they got from a street corner after retrieving a bottle of water from the fridge. Abby is at her desk in the back of the room, and looks up from the strewn-out papers and books surrounding her. “Hey, you’re back! Were you and Holtz at the gym?” she sounds more surprised than she should.

 

“Yeah, thanks for noticing.” Erin scoffs. It scares her to think that they’re all so caught up in their own heads that someone could probably go missing without notice.

 

“I just honestly didn’t think you’d start working out again, after your little jogs became kind of a neurotic thing.” Abby stands up and starts stacking her papers into a neat pile. “Pizza tonight?”

 

Erin wanted to argue that her “little jogs” were probably the healthiest way she coped with the daily bullying, but she also couldn’t deny that she would sometimes sneak out at two in the morning and run the entire way to Abby’s house, which was three miles away.

 

“Pepperoni.” She says instead, taking a drink from her bottle.

 

Abby nods and picks up her cell phone off her desk, as Holtzmann comes downstairs donning clean clothes and a towel wrapped around her hair. “All yours!” She calls over to Erin. Abby asks for her opinion on pepperoni pizza and she replies with a double thumbs-up before disappearing into the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to focus on relationship-building and dialogue. More Abby and Patty in future chapters

Holtzmann made good on her promise to talk to Erin during their next trip to the gym. She spent the first part of the hour making as many ridiculous jokes as she could think of, and sometimes they were so bad that Erin laughed just to see the proud look on her face.

 

They also talked about work. Erin mentioned she had been looking at samples of slime from a recent bust for her research, and Holtz listened to all the disgusting details with undivided attention. Then it was her turn to talk about tweaking the plasma ignition chambers on their wands for maximum efficiency, and that she was thinking about adding a containment unit to the back of their new hearse.

 

“We can talk science back at the lab though,” Holtz says after a pause. “We should talk about other stuff.”

 

They both get off the elliptical machines and go over to the weight area together. Erin suddenly feels self-conscious when they stand in front of the big mirror to do arm-curls. “What kind of other stuff?” she asks, looking at their reflections.

 

“I don’t know, you could tell me what you and Abby looked like in high school?” The refection of Holtz grins mischievously back at Erin.

 

“Well, I had braces…and a perm,” Erin recalls it with a grimace. “Abby had coke-bottle glasses and wore turtlenecks, but like, more often than most people.”

 

Holtz snickers. “Oh man, you have _got_ to show me a yearbook sometime. I’ve never been able to get it out of Abby before.”

 

“What about _you_?” Erin asks, half out of curiosity, half in retaliation. She already has her own idea of a sixteen-year-old Holtz, but it’s pretty close to the way she looks now. “Anything embarrassing?”

 

“Let’s see,” Holtz licks the inside of her cheek as she racks her brain for an accurate description. “Long hair, like down to my waist long, and maybe…20% more denim than I wear now.”

 

Erin hums and nods her head. “Why the long hair? Any particular reason?”

 

“Eh, my mom really wanted me to wear it like that. I didn’t really care.” Holtzmann shrugs and moves on from the free weights to the rowing machine. Erin follows and stands nearby.

 

“So, your mom was the live-vicariously-through-my-daughter type too?” Erin asks. She can remember walking into her room some days and finding her bed covered in outfits that her mom had bought at the mall, none of which were something she would’ve picked for herself. She did that until Erin graduated high school.

 

“Sort of. I think it was more of a desperate attempt to get me to stop trying on stuff out of my dad’s closet.” Holtz glances up at Erin with a smirk. “And look what all that effort got her.”

 

Weeks pass much the same way, they go to the gym together consistently. Erin notices that Holtzmann is asking about her progress more often when they’re at the firehouse, and she’s asking Erin to come see her new gadgets more than usual, too.

 

While they’re at the gym, Erin learns all sorts of things about Holtz, like how she’s never had a pet before despite her love of animals, or that her dad was in the air force and they moved around a bunch when she was little, or that she has a collection of vintage Madame Alexander dolls. Erin told her similarly odd tidbits about herself, like how she had a brief and awful phase of writing “profound” poetry to express her teen angst, or that she had only one childhood pet, a big fat cat who hated her but she loved anyway, or that her dad was so absentminded that sometimes he went to work with mismatched shoes. 

 

They swap stories about their childhoods mostly, like that Erin ate lunch with the librarians before Abby transferred to her school. Jillian talked about how she had been forced into choir by her mother for years when all she wanted was shop class, to which Erin said that she and Abby were in the orchestra and band respectively, so she could kind of relate. Except Erin had loved playing violin, she stuck with it through college. Holtz seemed a bit more resentful of her experience, but conceded that singing was pretty fun even though dancing was better. On some days, going to the gym was the only part Erin looked forward to, when busts were coming in less often and her research was going nowhere.

* * *

 

            

 It was a Friday night, and the team had chosen to eat out at an Italian joint a couple blocks away for a change of pace, despite having to break out their coats for the occasion. It’s a busy night, so they get seated at one of the tables with white butcher paper spread out on top instead of a proper tablecloth, the cup of crayons confirms that it’s meant for a family with small children. Holtzmann grabs a blue and starts busily scribbling on her corner of the table, and is joined by Abby wielding a green. Patty takes the liberty of ordering their drinks for them while Erin tries to decipher what the two are so excitedly drawing from across the table.

 

“I propose a toast,” Patty announces when the waitress returns with two ice teas, a beer and a glass of wine. She holds up a hand to Holtzmann before she has even the chance to jump to her feet. “And not the kind where we broadcast all our emotions for the world to hear. Just a little pat on our backs because we’ve been professionally busting for eight months now.”

 

Erin smiles and holds up her tea. “I second that. To ghostbusting, the job nobody else wants to deal with. May we stay in business for many years to come.”

 

“To ghostbusting!” comes the echo of assent. They’re all grinning at each other as they clink their glasses together.

 

Abby orders a chocolate cheesecake to go when they finish their meal, and Holtzmann tears off her corner of the paper and stuffs it into her pocket before they get up, saying something about it being a preliminary sketch for new gear. Erin pulls her scarf tighter around her neck when the night air hits her, squinting her eyes at the chill of the wind. They walk in a huddled group back to the firehouse, and as soon as they come inside they pile into the living room space for a movie. Patty claims their La-Z-Boy recliner, so Erin, Holtz and Abby are on the couch together.

 

“It’s my night to pick,” Abby begins as she digs through the cabinet of DVDs, “so I’m selecting a classic.” She pulls one from the very back and holds it up triumphantly.

 

“ _Dirty Dancing_?” Erin finds herself groaning. It’s been years since she’s seen it but it still feels too soon. She remembers all the nights in high school and college spent sprawled on the floor of Abby’s room, watching Baby and Johnny grind and spin and gyrate across the screen. Erin loved Patrick Swayze as much as the next girl, but there were only so many times she could have the time of her life.

 

“Oh hush, I didn’t say a word when you busted out _50 First Dates_ for the hundredth time.” Abby retorts with an eye roll as she loads the disk. Erin scoffs.

 

“Really? Because I seem to remember that you had more than a few words—“

 

“Ladies, ladies, let’s all agree that _I’m_ the one who will be suffering tonight,” Holtz cuts in. “So just load it up, Abs.”

 

Erin grunts and sinks into the couch. She glances at Holtz while Abby struggles with the remote. “So is Jennifer Grey not your type?” she murmurs, leaning slightly into her shoulder to make room for Abby when she joins them on the couch.

 

“Eh, she’s decent.” Holtz replies in a lowered voice, eyes trained on the television screen. “I’ve never really been the romantic movie type of gal, but at least this one has some good numbers.” Erin recalls a conversation about movie genres wherein Holtz had confessed that she could live solely off the terrible sci-fi monster flicks, and musicals. She tries to ignore the fact that she can smell her Old Spice cologne at this proximity.

 

 _Dirty Dancing_ is exactly how Erin remembers it, and she still prefers pretty much any other Swayze role. She tells Abby to pick _Roadhouse_ next time when the credits start rolling. Patty has fallen asleep sometime during the mid-movie discourse, and they know from experience that there’s no use in trying to wake her now; they’d all rather deal with her complaints tomorrow morning than her half-conscious wrath tonight. 

 

Erin helps Holtzmann carry the cheesecake plates into the kitchen while Abby scavenges for a blanket to cover Patty with. As they stand next to each other at the sink, Erin starts humming _Hungry Eyes_.

 

“There really are some good ones on that soundtrack, huh?” Holtz teases. Erin hip checks her on her way to stack up the plates in the cabinet.

 

“Maybe you should make me a Swayze-centric mixed tape,” She muses with a smirk.

 

“I’ll do you one better: Let’s learn all the choreography and reenact the movie for Abby’s next birthday,” Holtz says, moving her hips and throwing Erin a suggestive smirk. “I can be your Johnny.”

 

Erin is caught between laughing and choking on her own spit. It takes a while to recover but by then Holtz has seen and is obviously amused.

 

She puts away the dish rag and walks over to Erin. “ _Kidding, of course_ ,” she says in the same low tone as before, right into Erin’s ear, before walking past her and out of the Kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

“She’s gotta be doing this on purpose,” Erin hisses into the textbook she’s holding. Blue eyes peer over the top to look at Holtz, who’s listening to Merry Clayton’s Yes while she welds a couple pieces of metal together. It’s been a week since the movie, since the kitchen, and she’s been flirting even more than usual, which is driving Erin insane. In particular, she seems to get a kick out of Erin’s response to the Low Voice, and she’s figured out how to time it for the best reactions. She’s also been playing Swayze soundtracks nonstop, but whether that’s to get under Erin’s skin, or if she un-ironically enjoys them is up for debate.

 

With all these new developments in their relationship, Erin starts to wonder if she should finally broach the topic of her feelings for Holtzmann with Holtzmann. Because that’s what they are now, feelings. She’s definitely crossed the threshold of crush status and fully into pining, and since she’s already admitted that to herself she figures there’s no use in trying to get over it. Except Erin really, really hates confrontation, and Holtz still hasn’t given any definite indication of how she feels.

 

The book bangs loudly on the desktop as Erin lets it fall from her face. She runs both hands through her hair and groans. This stress is so unnecessary. She needs to get this out in the open so they can move on one way or another. Steeling herself, Erin gets up and brushes at her skirt. She crosses the distance to Holtz’s area and waits for her to finish using the blowtorch before trying to get her attention. Eventually she shuts it off and flips up her welding mask.

 

“What’s up, chickadee?” She smiles at Erin and turns her body to face her. “Come to watch me in action? See what I’ve been flame-broiling over here?”

 

Erin looks past her and at the huge metal contraption she’s been working on all week. “The portable containment unit?” she sounds as awed as she always does when Holtzmann once again demonstrates how genius she is. Which is to say, every time Holtzmann shows her something.

 

“Just the prototype. Still need to crunch numbers and gather the more, shall we say, rare items?” She grins, because collecting illegal materials is half the fun of building this stuff, for Holtz at least. “I’m pretty pleased with this skeleton, though. I think next time I’ll make it a bit more compact. The hearse really doesn’t need help being bulky.” Erin nods.

 

“Can I talk to you about something?” The words are rushed, but they’re out there, she’s taken the first step.

 

Holtz pulls a rag from her lab coat pocket and uses it to wipe away the oil stain on the stool beside her, and pats it. “Sure, have a seat.” She seems to notice Erin’s apprehension, because then her brows draw together in concern. “Everything ok?”

 

The moment feels right, Erin thinks to herself as she gets up on the stool beside Holtzmann. She can’t imagine that this woman would ever do something to hurt her, even if she doesn’t feel the same way. She would let her down easy, and she would stop the flirting in respect for Erin’s boundaries. They’d stay as friends. Everything would be ok. Deep breaths.

 

Erin opens her mouth to start the speech she’s been practicing in her head all week, but of course that’s when Patty appears in the doorway, already halfway suited up. “Y’all are going to need to reschedule whatever little pow-wow you’re having for later. We have a class three specter waiting for us,” she says urgently before disappearing back downstairs to finish getting ready.

 

Holtzmann jumps to her feet, but looks back at Erin apologetically. “Bad timing, but we’ll talk later,” she promises before dashing across the room to start grabbing miscellaneous tools for the bust. Erin internally bemoans her luck before she also swings into action.

 

On the way there, Patty sits in the front seat with Holtz and starts reciting the information she has on the small art gallery they’re going to. “It’s been there since the 70’s,” she says, “not much of a history there. Although…it says that they once featured the work of a local artist who had killed himself. That’ll probably be our ghost.”

 

Erin mentally notes that they may be dealing with a class four after all. “Malevolent then?”

 

“I’m going to say yes,” Patty mutters as she keeps reading from her phone screen. “Apparently, the gallery really screwed Timothy Gray over on the deal they made when they first started showing his paintings, and in the note he left behind he said as much. They’ve been in storage since the 1980’s, but apparently the new curator decided Christmas would be the right time to bring the exhibit back.”

 

“So what’s the exhibit?” Abby chimes in as they roll into the cramped parking lot. “Cute little cottages in the snow?” She sounds hopeful.

 

“Of course not,” is all Patty says before they get out and strap into their proton packs.

 

The curator is waiting outside the front doors, looking beyond disheveled. “Thank you for coming out. It’s been…a living nightmare.” She tucks one of her many stray hairs behind her ear and gestures for them to go inside. “The doors are all unlocked. And feel free to destroy as many of those paintings as you need to.”

 

They get inside and Holtz flips on all the showroom lights, which illuminate the paintings Patty had mentioned. Each canvas was about four feet tall, and each displayed its own Christmas cherub. Except these cherubs were anything but angelic, these had enormous bug eyes, and twisted little smiles. The winterscapes swirling around each one featured twisted bare branches trying claw their way off the edge of the painting.

 

“Nightmare fuel is what this is.” Patty shakes her head, resigned to the fact that when it comes to ghostbusting, they can never hope for anything to be nice.

 

Abby sighs. “Alright guys, you know the drill. Spread out, and shout when you find this creep.” They all nod and disperse into the other rooms.

 

Erin notices that the smaller exhibits and single pieces on display are not nearly as disturbing as Mr. Gray’s. The entire building is so cold that she can practically see her breath, but it’s hard to say if it’s a spectral presence or the December air.

 

The lights begin to flicker, and Erin can hear shouts and crashing from the main showroom. She pulls her wand out and races in, just in time to dodge a flying sculpture and watch it shatter against the wall. Abby had already been knocked on her back, and Holtz and Patty were nearby trying to shoot at what appeared to be Timothy Gray. He was a translucent blue, but his eyes were glowing red with rage. He screamed as a proton blast managed to graze him, and the whole building shook.

 

Erin darted around the display cases in the room until she managed to get close enough to Abby to help her up. When she reached out her hand, though, Abby took it and pulled her to the floor with her. Erin felt a whoosh of cold air above her as if something had swooped down. “Thanks Ab,” Erin croaks out, having had the wind momentarily knocked out of her. She looks up to see a cherub floating above them. The creepy little smile has twisted into an ugly scowl, and it starts floating up as if preparing to dive again. Abby and Erin exchange a quick look before rolling in opposite directions just as it smashes into the floor. Once they’re both back on their feet, Erin can see that all the cherubs from the paintings have come alive, so to speak. There are six in total, and none of them look like they’re ready to spread Christmas cheer. Holtzmann and Patty are still having trouble trying to pin down Gray, but they can’t really get back-up until these little hell spawn are dealt with.

 

Abby moves slowly as she pulls a grenade from her belt. “Erin,” she says in a calm, even voice, “you need to get them to swarm you.” Her eyes are trained on the cherubs, who look like they’re ready to attack en masse any second.

 

“What?” Erin hisses back, keeping her finger on the trigger of her wand.

 

“They swarm you at once, I toss this grenade, and boom they’re all gone at once. Then we run over and help the others.” Abby sounds slightly apologetic, at least.

 

Erin grimaces, but she knows as well as Abby that ghosts have always been particularly attracted to her. This isn’t the first time she’s been bait, and it won’t be the last. With a small nod, Erin shoots her proton beam up at the ceiling, and is almost immediately bowled over by tiny, terrifying angel babies, all of them gnashing their pointed teeth at her. She vaguely hears Abby shouting somewhere nearby, and then she’s momentarily blinded by a flash of purple. Then she’s sprawled on the showroom floor, coated in slime.

 

Abby has already rejoined Holtz and Patty in their struggle to contain Gray. He keeps screaming, and his arms and legs are flailing in the confines of the three proton streams tangled around him.

 

“Erin! We need a hand over here!” Holtz shouts, trying to get the trap free from her pack.

 

Erin finally jumps to her feet, and runs about as well as she can while slipping and sliding across the wood floor. She gets to them eventually and hits the ghost with her proton beam from the other side, successfully holding him down while the trap is laid out beneath him. With one final attempt to break free, and a shriek, Timothy Gray was sucked into the container, and Holtzmann wasted no time in snapping it shut. In the sudden silence of the room, all four women sighed in relief. Erin looked down at her sticky jumpsuit and groaned.

 

“Let’s get paid and go home,” she says tiredly. “I’m dying for a shower.”

 

“Pun intended?” Holtz asks, looking over at Erin with a mixture of amusement and pity.

 

Erin just sighs and scoops a glob off her face before heading outside to the car.

 

Holtzmann has the idea to bring the paintings back with them for research, since this is the first time they’ve encountered a ghost with minions. Erin sits patiently while they load up the back, because even though she feels gross and tired, she’s interested as well. They mercifully go straight back to the firehouse after getting a check from the gallery curator, even though they could all frankly use a beer.

 

“Tell you what, Erin,” Abby says from the front seat, turning to look back at her miserably gooey friend, “you can pick what we eat tonight since you were a real team player today.”

 

“I’ll figure that out while I try to save my hair,” Erin replies warily, “it feels so brittle that I’m worried it’ll beak off in my hands.”

 

The water is blessedly warm, thanks to all the renovations this place went through when they chose it as HQ. The governor had been more willing to increase the budget for heating and plumbing when they had explained that this would also serve as their housing. Half a bottle of shampoo later, Erin was feeling a little more confident that her hair would no longer shatter if she tried to brush it. The residual smell of ectoplasm was masked by two layers of citrus and one of lavender. She sniffed herself as she toweled off and found that this level of Bath & Body Works scent was enough. Once freshly dried off and wearing comfortable sweatpants, Erin headed downstairs to tell Abby that she had decided on Vietnamese food. When she got downstairs, though, no one was around.

 

“Must be upstairs,” Erin mutters, but before she can turn around to go looking, she realizes there’s a visitor standing awkwardly by the double doors.

 

“Kevin?” Erin asks as she approaches the front desk, “who’s this?” She gestures to the woman just a few feet away.

 

Kevin looks up from a book of crossword puzzles and smiles at Erin. “Oh, that’s, uh, April…” he looks at the small pad of paper that was intended for him to write down messages on, but is used more often for doodles and games of solo tic-tac-toe. “April Godfrey.”

 

Erin stares for a moment before turning to miss Godfrey. She’s tall and model-thin, wearing clothes that would also give that impression, her auburn hair is cut in a sleek bob. She looks nervous, and a little uncomfortable. “Um, hello, miss Godfrey?” Erin hates having to speak with clients on her own, but since no one else is in sight, and Kevin is about as useful as a handsome paperweight, she’ll go ahead and recite the script. “Do you need to report a ghost?”

 

The woman is silent for almost so long that Erin worries she hasn’t heard her, she just stares at Erin, all the way up and down with wide eyes. “It really is you…” she murmurs.

 

“I’m sorry?” Erin is beyond lost at this point, and her brain is sent into a frenzy trying to recall where she must’ve seen this woman before.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” April looks sheepish as she comes out of her trance. “I’m not here to report a ghost. It’s a, um, more personal matter.” Erin notices that she has an envelope in her hand. “You’re Erin Gilbert, right?” Now it’s time for Erin’s brain to go into an entirely new panic.

 

“Yes? What’s this about?”

 

“Your father passed away last year?” she began, clearing her throat. Erin’s chest hurt.

 

“Yes.” Her voice sounds small and far away.

 

“Well, the will has finally been sorted out…and he left everything….to his daughters.” April’s words are stilted, and she looks like she’s ready to run away if necessary. Erin swallows loudly.

 

“Daughter…s?”

 

She looks down a moment before holding out the envelope. “I wanted to be positive before I came to meet you. I’m,” She meets Erin’s eyes. “I’m your sister. Half-sister.”


	4. Chapter 4

Erin feels like the floor is dropping out from beneath her, and she kind of wishes it would. Her mouth is open, but she can’t form proper words.

 

“Who’s this?” Abby asks as she comes up beside her. When neither woman supplies her a name, she looks between them suspiciously. “Erin?”

 

“April Godfrey,” Kevin shouts from his desk, looking proud to be useful for once.

 

Abby is still confused. “April Godfrey...is she here to report a ghost?”

 

April opens Erin’s hand and puts the envelope in it. “I just had some business with Dr. Gilbert. But I’ll be going now.” She smiles awkwardly and quickly turns away, disappearing before the doors finish swinging behind her.

 

Abby stares for a minute before turning her eyes to Erin. “Can you explain now?”

 

Erin looks down at the envelope, but she still can’t speak. And she’s trembling.

 

“Er?” Abby’s voice comes out gentler. She puts a hand on Erin’s shoulder. “Was it about your dad’s will? Weren't you going to discuss it with your mom over Christmas?”

 

“I think…I need some time alone.” Erin manages to say, before half-running for the stairs and past Patty and Holtzmann, who were on their way down. She locks the door to her room and sits on the floor with the envelope clutched in both hands.

 

This can’t be real, right? Surely her mom would’ve called the moment the will was opened and read through, had she discovered something like _this_. Except her mother had been so grief-stricken that she’d put off the will for a year, and it had taken the combined effort of Erin’s aunt and uncle to finally get her to the lawyer’s office to begin executing it last week. Erin can’t even imagine how devastated she would be had she learned the implications of Erin having a younger half-sister.

 

With a long, shaking breath, she opened the envelope. There were several papers inside. Erin upended the contents into her hand and unfolded each one. The first page was hand-written, which caught her eye. It was a letter.

 

_Dear Erin,_

_My name is April Godfrey, and I was recently notified that I was named as an inheritor of my biological father’s will. There’s no easy way to tell you about this, but I’d much rather be the one to tell you than some lawyer over the phone. I was unfortunately unable to do the same for your mother, because we found out around the same time last week._

_Since I knew it would be hard to talk about all of this after meeting for the first time, under such bleak circumstances, I took the liberty of explaining it all in this letter._

_First of all, my condolences. I never got the chance to know Charles Gilbert, but from what I’ve learned he was an extremely kind and generous man._

_Now I want to tell you what I know, from what my mom has shared with me. This might be difficult to read, but it’s the truth. My mother met your father while he was on a business stay in London. She was a barista while attending university, at the hotel Mr. Gilbert stayed in. They fell in love, and during the brief time they spent together, I was conceived. If you doubt this, and anyone in their right mind would, a DNA test is already in progress, and I will be more than happy to mail the results to you. I don’t need that proof, though, I’ve already seen the pictures of my mom and your dad together, and I’ve enclosed a copy of one._

_I don’t know you, so I didn’t want to include any more personal details you might not want to hear, but if you do then please contact me. I’ve spent my whole life not knowing my father, and I’d hate to not know my sister, too. I also understand if you choose not to contact me further._

 

The letter ends with April’s signature at the bottom, beside it are her phone number and email.

 

There are tracks of tears on both of Erin’s cheeks. She can’t even begin to know how to feel after learning so much earth-shattering news in just one half hour. She shuffles through the other papers: a business card with April’s information printed on it, and a glossy copied photo of a beautiful young woman standing beside a handsome young man, who is unmistakably Erin’s father even without the visible smile-lines and mustache. He looks so happy, and his arm is definitely around the woman’s waist.

 

Erin stands up and paces around her room, trying her hardest to process all this information and failing. She mostly cries and hyperventilates and fumes. If she were the more violent type, she’d be wrecking her furniture and screaming obscenities right now, but all she can do is look over at the pile of papers by her door every once in a while, and then start the cycle all over again. She’s heartbroken and furious, all at once.

 

She scoops up the papers after a while and throws it all into the garbage can by her bookshelf, then flops onto her bed and continues crying. She hopes that it’ll get out all the sudden anxiety and panic and sadness, but it won’t.

 

It’s almost been a full hour since Erin barricaded herself in her room without explanation when Abby knocks on her door.

 

“Er? Are you ok in there? Do you want to talk about it?”  It must be driving her nuts to not be in the loop, and she’s still trying hard to be considerate first. Erin is lucky to have her, but she doesn’t trust in her ability not to just scream and sob all over her, and she isn’t sure if she’s ready to tell anyone about this yet, not even Abby.

 

“Erin, can you grunt for me so that I can at least know you’re alive?”

 

Erin lifts her head up off her pillow long enough to grunt, then buries herself deeper into the mattress. An hour passes. Another knock comes to the door, this time in the rhythm of _Shave and a Haircut._ Erin jerks awake, after having taken an accidental nap.

 

“Candy gram for Erin Gilbert,” Holtzmann says in her best official-sounding voice.

 

She feels groggy, and a headache setting in, but guilt nags at her for making her friends worry, so she decides to actually answer the door this time.

 

Holtz is holding a cardboard box filled with tissues, a bottle of aspirin, a can of tea and a couple takeout boxes from Erin’s favorite Vietnamese place. She would tear up again if she hadn’t already cried herself out earlier.

 

“I don’t know what to say…” Erin grimaces at how scratchy her voice sounds.

 

“Then say no more.” Holtzmann thrusts the box into Erin’s arms. “We’ll be waiting for you when you feel ready to talk. Or don’t talk about it at all, if you don’t want to. We’ll still be here,” she adds. She looks like she wants to say something else, but doesn’t, and then Erin is by herself again.

 

She eats in her room, despite the fact that she hates the idea of leaving food crumbs where she sleeps. It’s less about avoiding her friends, who have once again proven themselves to be amazing and deserving of her endless gratitude, and more about all the problems and questions still swirling around in her head like a fog.

 

The one thing it comes down to is whether or not Erin is willing to see this woman again and hear her out. Or if she’d rather pretend none of this ever happened and move on with the rest of her life in denial. Erin was a scientist though, and the data was laid out in front of her. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t dying to know more, ask all the questions she had, but she wasn’t sure she could handle seeing more of April on top of all the things going on in her life.

 

Eventually, Erin breaks down and digs through the trash, and retrieves the papers and the photograph and the business card. She tucks them into the envelope and sets it on her bedside table.

 

She peeks out into the living area to see that everyone is still awake. The nightly news is on as background noise while they try to play cards around the coffee table.

 

“Hey, there’s our girl!” Holtz calls out when she sees Erin, before quickly clearing her throat and looking back down at her cards. Abby throws her a look that Erin can’t quite read before gesturing for her to come join them.

 

“You can sit right next to me, baby,” Patty says, and makes a spot beside her for Erin. “We’ll deal you in next round.”

 

Erin basks in the warmth of her friends as they crack jokes and drink wine. Eventually they trade the card deck for _Sorry!_ and by then Erin is laughing so hard that she forgets about the fact that her life is one good push away from being completely fucked.

 

“You definitely need to go,” Abby says once Erin tells her everything the next day. “Even if you let her explain and then run away screaming. I mean it.”

 

Erin grouses. “I don’t know, Abs. There’s so much that could go wrong. And you know I hate crying in public.” She looks down at her feet. “I’m scared I won’t like what she has to say.”

 

“You _already_ don’t like what she’s said, Erin. But she ripped off the Band-Aid when she came here and broke the news. You need to go hear her out. That doesn’t mean you owe her anything. You don’t have to be her new best friend, you don’t even have to see her again.”

 

“I don’t know…”

 

“Erin, you can come straight home and we’ll all be here for you. And if it turns out that she’s a raging bitch, then we’ll be more than happy to go and fight her scrawny ass on your behalf. I know Holtzmann has been looking for an excuse to use her metal pipe since the proton shotgun fell through--”

 

Erin laughs, holding up both hands and shaking her head. “Alright, alright I’ll go. No need to kill somebody for me.”

 

 “Good,” Abby smiles. “But you know we would.”

 

Patty and Holtzmann seem to share the sentiment when she tells them, too.

 

The next week Erin stands in her room and stares at three outfits laid out on her bed. This is as far as she’s gotten, taking out the business card again, and tearing apart her closet for something appropriate. Only she has no idea what’s appropriate for meeting with your illegitimate half-sister. And she hasn’t even called yet. She slumps down onto the floor with a heavy sigh.

 

Her bedroom door was open, but she heard someone knock anyway. “Hey,” Holtz says, standing in the doorway. “Need help?”

 

Erin looks over and bites her lip. “Yeah, actually. That would be nice.”

 

Holtz strolls into the room, and lifts her glasses from her face to get a look at what Erin has picked out. “Let’s see. We’ve got a funeral ensemble, a nice little number one might wear to a court hearing, and….I’m gonna say sexy lawyer.”

 

Erin flushes, half amused and half indignant. “I said you could help me, not criticize my fashion taste.”

 

 “No need to get defensive,” Holtz says dismissively, and walks over to Erin’s closet to look through it. “I’m sure there’s something in here that’ll work. You focus on actually picking up your phone to call.”

 

“How did you know I haven’t—“

 

“It’s downstairs in the living room.”

 

Erin huffs and goes down to the living room just long enough to scoop up her phone off the coffee table. When she gets back, Holtzmann has replaced the outfits on her bed with three of her own choices.

 

“You’ve retrieved the phone, that’s a start,” she remarks. “I’ve made some selections for you. In my humble opinion, any of these would be a smart decision.” She winks.

 

“I haven’t worn this dress in years,” Erin says, picking up a blue flower-print dress with three quarter sleeves. “Where did you even find this?”

 

“Waay in the back.” Holtz smirks.

 

Erin hums and absently holds it to herself in front of her mirror.

 

 “It’s nice.”

 

She turns around quickly, realizing that Holtzmann is standing there, watching her appreciatively. The engineer holds up her hands. “Alright, I’ve done my part. I’ll leave you to it.” She almost looks flustered as she shuffles out of the room.

 

Once the dress is decided upon, Erin slumps down into her desk chair with her phone in one hand, and the card in the other. “Here goes nothing…”

 


	5. Chapter 5

April is more excited to hear from Erin than she expects.

 

“I honestly didn’t think you’d call me so soon,” she said, “or at all.”

 

Erin laughed nervously, spinning in her chair a little. “Well, I’d be lying if I said that I don’t have a lot of questions.”

 

“And I’ll be more than happy to answer them. Are you free for lunch on Friday?”

 

“Yes, unless another maniac tries to destroy the city with a ghost army.” More nervous laughter. “I know a place, though. Can I text you the address?” Patty had suggested that she’d be less freaked out if she chose the meeting place, somewhere she felt comfortable.

 

“That sounds great! I’ll see you at noon.”

 

Erin isn’t sure what she replies with before they both hang up because she’s immediately back to panicking. She quickly types out the address and sends it to April’s number. A second later her phone chimes with her reply of “Awesome!” and a thumbs-up emoji.

               

 Erin picked her favorite bookstore, which was attached to her favorite café. The whole thing was inside a heavily remodeled warehouse, and something about the industrial ambiance made Erin feel at ease: the bare overhead lights, the smell of the wood paneling, the polished concrete floor. It was far and away the youngest and hippest place she frequented, and that seemed to be a good choice for April, who was only 29.

 

April met her outside the store. Instead of the chic outfit from the first time they met, she wore a loose, color blocked shirt that hung off her shoulders just so, and a pair of fitted jeans lightly coated in paint spatter.

 

“Hi, sorry I was running a little late,” she says sheepishly, holding out her hand for Erin to shake, for lack of a more appropriate gesture. Erin was grateful that she hadn’t opted for a hug.

 

“It’s no problem,” she says quickly. “Let’s go get a seat inside.”

 

They sit by the windows, and April smiles as she looks around them. “This place is great,” she says. “I really like the atmosphere.” She looks much more at ease than before, but Erin can see that she’s nervous by the way her hands are squeezed together. From this close, and in broad daylight, Erin is struck by the resemblance. April has her father’s nose and his high cheekbones, and the same deep auburn hair he had before it started to grey. Her eyes are green, though, like the woman from the photograph.

 

 A silence falls between them while they wait to order. April seems to be stealing glances at Erin as well, taking in the similarities.

 

“So,” Erin begins, but she isn’t sure where to go from there.

 

“Do you want me to just start from the beginning?” April asks, mercifully.

 

“Please do.”

 

So April starts her more detailed account of the history between their parents. She talks about the trip abroad to England, which Erin remembers because she was thirteen at the time. She goes into more detail than she had in the letter, particularly about her mother.

 

 “She was 24 at the time and putting herself through college. Even during the pregnancy she kept going. Took a final while she was in the hospital,” April laughs.

 

“There were some times that were hard for us, sure, but she was such a strong role-model for me, and she always took care of us both. Mom understood why dad didn’t stay, she accepted that before they got involved, actually.”

 

Erin feels anger for both her and her mother’s sake, because out of all of this, her father having an affair is the hardest to grasp. She vaguely hears the Abby part of her brain, telling her to listen to April’s full recounting before she gets too carried away.

 

“Mom waited to tell me about him, even when we moved to New York. She didn’t want me to try to look for him and get hurt when I discovered his other family. His _real_ family. She hadn’t told him about me either, not until I was already in high school. She didn’t want him feeling like he owed us anything. And, well…that’s the story.”

 

All of this leaves Erin feeling conflicted. Of course she still feels hurt and betrayed, but she can also see that it isn’t April’s fault. The younger woman is frowning and holding her coffee mug tightly.

 

“Tell me about yourself,” she says quickly, before she changes her mind.

 

April looks up, obviously surprised. “Wait, really?”

 

Maybe there are some similarities between them after all, Erin thinks. “Yes really,” she assures her.

 

April smiles, and looks a little overwhelmed with emotion. She pauses before she starts talking again.

 

In the space of two hours, Erin finds out a lot about her half-sister, including the fact that they’re almost complete polar opposites. They meander through the cult classic section, and April tells her all about how much she enjoyed high school, all the friends she had, and college with her semester abroad in France. She plays the flute, paints, and can speak three languages. Apparently, April’s mother had become very well-educated through her hard work, and currently owned five different art galleries throughout the city. April herself owned her own dance studio, where she taught seven classes a day for a living. They were as different as the two hemispheres of the brain.

 

“Listen to me go on and on, when your life is bound to be much more interesting. What’s it like to be a Ghostbuster? I swear I had to triple check when I found out you were the Erin Gilbert from the news.” April looks so excited that Erin can’t help but indulge her. And besides, it’s not like she gets flattery like this very often when it comes to her work.

 

Erin tells her about the team, about how they met and came together under the circumstances of Rowan’s plot to destroy New York. She skimps on the part about the nightly visitor from her childhood, because it feels too personal to share with someone she just met, even if they’re related by blood. She also talks about getting her Ph.D. and her brief career at Columbia. It had been a good fit while it lasted, considering it was around the time her father passed away. Erin had thrown herself into her research twofold, which was likely the reason why she was even being considered for tenure.

 

“So, um,” she starts, picking at the worn edges of an old murder mystery novel. “Would you like to know more about…dad?”

 

“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” April replies, looking hopeful.

 

Erin thinks for a moment before she starts telling April about Charles Gilbert. “He was actually a lot like me,” she admits. “Very reserved and private, always thinking about work. It drove my mom crazy when he made business calls during Christmas.”

 

To her surprise, it felt really good to reminisce about her personal memories of her father with someone since she hadn’t been able to before, even at the funeral. April watched her in awe, and seemed to hang on every word. It was obvious that this meant a lot to her. When they go separate ways, it’s been three hours. Erin feels emotionally drained, but in a good way.

 

“Just call me when you’d like to meet up again?” April says as they walk down the street together for a couple blocks. “ _If_ you’d like to, I mean.”

 

“I would.” Erin decides out loud, and manages to smile at April. This relationship will definitely take work, but it feels too important to just throw away. “I’ll call.”

               

It takes all of one minute after Erin gets home before Abby is asking how it went. “So? What’s the verdict?”

 

“It was…nice.”

               


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extremely feelsy Christmas chapter

Erin decided to hold off on calling April since Christmas was just a week away. They were already decorating the firehouse for their pre-celebration as a team because Patty and Erin would both be spending the actual day of with their families, while Abby and Holtzmann held down the fort.

 

“Maybe you can invite her to the New Year’s party once we all get back here?” Patty suggests, holding up a garland. “How’s this?”

               

Erin takes a few steps back. “Maybe to the right a little.” She honestly isn’t sure if she wants April to meet her friends yet, because she still hasn’t decided for herself how she feels. The girls are so supportive of her though, and it would be a good opportunity to see her again.

               

Abby and Holtz come back from the store with armloads of groceries and decorations. “Patty, light of my life, wind beneath my wings,” Holtz calls out from the kitchen, “I’m gonna need help with the tree.”

               

“You got a tree?” Erin asks, sounding more excited than she wanted to admit, “Like a _real_ tree?”

               

“Why yes we did,” Holtz sounds pleased as she joins them in the living room area. “Figured it would be less depressing than a plastic one. Make the place smell nice and piney.”

               

Patty finished draping the garland and turns back to them, dusting off her hands. “Alright Holtzy, lead the way.”

 

While the two go back outside to get the tree from wherever on the hearse Holtz had managed to strap it down, Erin wandered into the kitchen. Abby was busily stocking their fridge with all sorts of drinks and food, a lot more than Erin thought they’d be able drink and eat.

 

“Do we need this much eggnog?” she asks, picking up one of four bottles.

 

“Yes, because three of them are for alcohol, and one is for a cake.” Abby replies matter-of-factly.

 

“You’re going to make an eggnog cake,” Erin says incredulously.

 

“You’ll help,” Abby assures her. “It’ll be like in high school when we made cupcakes for finals week.”

               

Erin can’t bring herself to be annoyed, because those were some of her favorite memories with Abby. On nights when the studying became too overwhelming for them, Abby would say “break time” and they’d turn on the radio and make the unhealthiest, most sugar-coated cupcakes on earth while they danced and laughed and ate straight out of the frosting container. The week after finals was always spent with them both eating salads to offset the sheer amount of calories they’d consumed.

               

“Of course I’ll help,” she replied with a smirk. “Otherwise the kitchen will end up looking like Holtzmann’s lab.”

               

“I resemble that remark!” Holtz calls from somewhere near the front of the firehouse, accompanied by Patty’s grunts and the sound of tree branches brushing past the doorframe.

               

The tree is enormous, definitely bigger than anything Erin has had in the past. Abby explains that she and Holtz got a major discount because the owner of the lot’s son was an on-duty police officer on the night the Mercado became a giant supernatural vortex.

               

“Offered us the biggest one, wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Holtzmann stands proudly beside the tree once it’s sufficiently held in place, and it towers over her like she’s a pixie in a giant’s forest.

               

“How are we going to decorate this monstrosity?” Patty cuts in, staring all the way up at the top. “Because even I can’t reach _that_ high.”

               

“I figured I’d put on my rock climbing equipment and have a go at it,” Holtz replies, miming how she planned to scale it. When nobody looks very amused, she snorts. “Just kidding, I have a big ladder.”

               

It takes two hours to wrap the tree in lights and tinsel, partially because Holtzmann kept wearing them like boas and necklaces and dancing in an imaginary chorus line, and Abby kept changing her mind about what colors looked best. When it came time to add the ornaments, Patty revealed that she had taken the liberty of buying one for each of them.

 

 “I wanted to commemorate our first Christmas together, so that we can start a tradition of personalizing our tree,” she announces. “So Abby, I got you a Bugs Bunny, Erin gets Princess Leia, and Holtzy, I got you Glinda the Good Witch.” They each look at their ornaments with big smiles before picking a spot on the tree to place them.

             

Once they’ve all selected their locations, Patty grins and approaches the tree to place her’s. “I got myself a little Rudolph. Can’t have Christmas without him.”

               

The decorating ends with Holtzmann rushing upstairs for “the final touch”, which leaves the others in suspense of what she could possibly be retrieving.

               

“Ladies, and Kev,” Holtz proclaims as she returns, loud enough to get Kevin’s attention from his desk. “I present to you, our tree.” She climbs all the way up the ladder and sets a handmade little ghost at the top. After a moment of tinkering with the wires, it lights up with the rest of the tree.

               

Once Holtzmann is back on the ground, all of them stand around to admire their work.

               

“Good call,” Patty says to Holtz as she puts an arm around the smaller woman’s shoulders.

               

“I figured you’d appreciate that it isn’t a cherub,” she replies with a grin.

               

               

Erin starts packing for her trip back home. She hasn’t been there since the funeral, and the years before that she just mailed gifts and received Christmas cards and sweaters from her relatives. This year was important, though. It was the first one without her dad, her mother needed her there.

               

Holtzmann’s music drifted in from the lab downstairs, her playlist now made up entirely of the slightly abrasive seasonal classics. Nobody seemed to mind, though, because they all apparently loved Christmastime. Erin hummed to _Jingle Bell Rock_ while she sat cross-legged on her bed and folded pairs of socks to tuck into her suitcase. Abby was downstairs prepping the kitchen for their next couple days of cooking, while Patty was out shopping for gifts.

               

Erin had all of their presents bought and stowed away in her closet, Abby would be going once Patty returned, and Holtz was supposedly making each of them a present right now in her lab. Erin and Abby were assuming it would be ghost hunting gear, based on the sound of hammering metal and blowtorches lighting. Nobody was complaining, they were all suckers for new tech.

* * *

 

               

On the 20th, they all gather around downstairs at 6:00AM. Abby and Erin busy themselves with making a big breakfast for everyone, while Patty sets the table and Holtzmann goes back up to her lab to wrap the presents she’d finished only five hours ago.

               

Although they’re pretty mediocre chefs on their own, Abby and Erin make a good team, and eventually the dining table is covered in eggs and bacon and French toast. They all eat as much as they want, and gawk at the amount of syrup Holtzmann pours onto her plate. The dishes are abandoned in the sink to be dealt with later, as they relocate to the tree for present-opening.

               

“I’ll go first,” Erin says, and passes out the impeccably wrapped boxes. Abby gets into hers first, and it’s the faux leather jacket she’d been talking about lately.

               

“Oh, Er, this is so awesome. Thank you.” She holds up the jacket to admire it, and Holtz whistles appreciatively. She leans across their half-circle to awkwardly hug Erin.

               

Holtz rips away the wrapping paper without much thought, and sticks the bow to her head before she actually opens the box. Inside is a nice Bluetooth speaker with lights that change color to the music, and a red t-shirt with the Pringles logo on it.

               

“Aw shucks.” Holtz smiles wide and immediately pulls the shirt on over the one she’s wearing. “How did you know that I wanted to become an irresistibly salty can of fried potatoes slices?” Erin laughs.

               

“I’m honestly amazed that I got you and Abby clothes and neither of you are disappointed,” She admits.

               

Finally, Patty unwraps her box to reveal a large pair of earrings that look similar to miniature chandeliers, each dangled stone cut perfectly to sparkle in the light.

               

“For the earrings Patty,” Erin says quickly, “if you don’t like them then I have the receipt, and you can go pick out a different pair to exchange them for.”

               

Patty shakes her head. “No way baby, they’re _perfect_. I’m gonna look so good in these.” She beams at Erin. “Thank you.”

               

Abby is next, with a nice new watch for Holtz in a similar style to the one she always wears, a set of first-edition history books for Patty, and a gift card to Erin’s favorite bookstore in addition to a very nice cashmere sweater.

                 

Holtzmann seems adamant to be last, so Patty passes out her gifts next: a stylish messenger bag for Abby, a fancy new lab coat for Holtzmann, and a custom teacup for Erin with a sterling silver necklace placed inside. Upon closer inspection, the pendant is an Ernest Rutherford atom.

               

Finally, with all the theatrics of Holtzmann’s gift-giving, she presents them each with boxes of varying sizes.

               

“Abby, you go first,” Holtzmann directs.

               

Looking slightly concerned, Abby adjusts her glasses and opens her box. Inside is a small, nondescript contraption, which sports a tiny hand-crank and a button on the side, and a glass lens on top of it.

               

“Shortly after we met,” Holtzmann begins, taking the odd machine from Abby, “I found out that you like classical music and star-gazing. So,” she presses the button, which projects a tiny night sky into the space above the four of them, and spins the crank, which produces the unmistakable tune of _Clair de Lune._ “I wanted you to always have both.”

               

They all stare in awe for a moment, but then Holtz shuts off the machine and gives it back to Abby. “Patty,” she says suddenly, “your turn.”

               

Patty opens up her box to reveal a metal bracelet with a wide, flat surface. “Hand-forged.” Holtzmann is reciting the facts the same way she would if they were being handed new weaponry. “The engraving is as accurate as possible.”

               

Patty holds the bracelet closer and gasps. “I can’t believe this, Holtzy…” She turns it all the way around. “It’s a tiny map of the city.”

               

“You really love New York, so I took the liberty of hunting down some scrap metal from the subway tracks and making it into a bracelet, so you can always have a piece of it with you.” She keeps going without giving anyone the chance to speak.

               

“Erin.” She gestures to the last wrapped box, sitting in the physicist’s lap. “Go ahead.”

               

Erin’s hands feel clammy as she gently picks apart the wrapping paper, which is actually just the comic page from a newspaper. Inside her box was what appeared to be a large metal compact mirror. The top was engraved, similarly to Patty’s bracelet. Except this wasn’t a map, they were beautiful flourished letters that spelled out _“I am strong, I am beautiful, I am enough”_.

               

“Erin, I made you a customized mirror.” Holtzmann is staring into her eyes. “Ever since the first time we met, I could tell that you weren’t very confident in yourself. I think that’s a crying shame, because you’re by far one of the most amazing, brilliant people I’ve ever met. And I want you to know that you are, every day.” She clears her throat and looks away.

               

Erin bites her lip and looks down at the item, her finger presses on a switch on the side and the mirror opens with a click. The interior is simple, Holtzmann has installed lights around the circle of glass. A picture of the four of them posing together at the bar they went to after the Rowan Incident has been cut to fit into the other half like a locket.

               

The three of them all look at Holtzmann in complete silence. She swallows and hunches her shoulders in discomfort. “So? You like them then?” Her voice is small.

               

Abby picks up a bow from a pile of torn wrapping paper and sticks it to Holtzmann’s shoulder. “You’re the real gift, Holtz.”

 

The engineer blushes and snorts with laughter. “Abigail Yates, that is _sappier_ than this tree.”

               

They eventually have to gather up all the garbage into a pile, but they have to pause for a group hug. “Next year I’ll go easy on the emotions,” Holtzmann promises into Abby’s chest.

               

“Maybe that’s for the best.” Erin replies, squished into Patty’s shoulder. She’s still trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

               

The rest of the day is spent marathoning Christmas specials on TV, and dancing to music on Holtzmann’s new speaker. Once it starts to get late, they go into the kitchen to clean all the dishes that had stacked up throughout the day. Holtzmann hauls out a grand total of four bags of garbage.

               

Erin stays up later than the others. She sits up on the couch with her knees drawn to her chest, thinking about her family. She worries that things with her mother will get worse, especially with the inevitable conversation about April.

               

She looks up when Holtzmann pads down the stairs, looking adorably half-awake in her pajamas, which now include her Pringles t-shirt.

               

“You okay…?” she drawls, shuffling over to the couch to sit down beside Erin.

               

“Oh. Yeah,” Erin yawns. “Just stressing about things that haven’t happened yet, the usual.”

               

“Well, don’t do _that_ ,” Holtz replies, “there’s no use in making yourself miserable. I’m sure your family will be glad to see you.”

               

Erin smiles softly and shifts to lay her head on Holtzmann’s shoulder. “I just want it to be as painless as possible.”

               

“Keep your expectations low, and try to roll with the punches if need be. You’ll get through it just fine,” she assures Erin, resting her cheek on the top of her head. “And worst case scenario, you call up me or Abby and we’ll come pick you up early.”

               

Erin hums. “So what are you and Abby planning to do on Christmas day?”

               

“We were talking about maybe going out to a karaoke bar, but who knows, the world is our oyster.”

               

That’s the last thing Erin hears before she drifts off to sleep, slumped against Holtzmann. Which is why it’s so disorienting when she wakes up the next morning back in her bed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erin's mom is complicated, and then everything is complicated

The ride upstate to the Gilbert household is nerve-wracking. Erin wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans every twenty minutes while she sat in the back of the cab. The radio is talking about all the snow they’ve been getting this winter, which is apparently somehow more than usual. The driver is mercifully quiet, more interested in the weather than in small-talk.

 

Once she pays and gets her suitcase from the trunk, Erin looks up at the impressive building and reluctantly approaches the front door. Amelia Gilbert answers almost as soon as the doorbell rings, looking as prim and put-together as usual, but Erin can see the glazed look in her mother’s eyes that betrays her appearance. They hug in the doorway, a little too tightly.

               

“I’ve missed you so much, darling,” she whispers into Erin’s hair.

               

“I missed you too, mom.”

               

“Come inside, it’s freezing out here.” Amelia steps aside for Erin.

               

They go upstairs to Erin’s old bedroom. “I’ve put new sheets on the bed for you, and I moved the towels to the hallway closet. I’ll let you get settled, I’ve got pots on the stove,” her mother says, before rushing back downstairs.

               

The room looks just like it did when Erin still lived there, the same old band posters, same four overflowing bookshelves, and the same plain blue bedspread, now freshly washed.

               

Erin dumps her suitcase on the mattress and pulls off her coat and scarf. So far, so good. She goes downstairs and finds her mother in the kitchen, shoving some sort of pie into the oven. The whole kitchen smells heavenly, it reminds Erin that she’s missed some things.

               

“Dear, can you get the other milk carton from the fridge?” Amelia asks, stirring up some flour and eggs in a bowl. “Your aunt Marcie will be here this afternoon, and your cousins will arrive sometime tonight. I’ve got three more hours without distraction.” She checks the clock above the sink.

              

Erin hands her the milk. “When are grandma and grandpa flying in?”

               

“Not until tomorrow evening.”

               

Erin takes a bottled water from the fridge and sits at the kitchen table. The house is flawlessly decorated and pristinely clean as usual. She suspects that her mother’s neurotic organizing habits are keeping her preoccupied in the absence of her father.

               

“I know it isn’t a very festive way to spend our time, but we’re going to finish up sorting out your father’s will while you’re here.” Amelia’s words are clipped and matter-of-fact, which tells Erin that she’s doubling down to keep her emotions in check. If there’s anything her mother hates, it’s crying in front of other people, even her daughter.

               

“Sure,” Erin agrees.

               

“This way you can have your inheritance dealt with by the time you start the New Year, maybe have a financial safety net, if the whole…ghost _thing_ falls through.” Her tone is dismissive, and the words sting more than Erin thought they would.

               

It was inevitable that she would bring up the Ghostbusters, but Erin had assumed that she would at least wait until a full hour had passed. She stayed quiet and picked at the label on the bottle.

               

Once her aunt arrived, Erin used her mother’s distraction to escape to her room. She looked in the mirror hanging over her desk, trying to conjure up the strength not to just walk out and forget this whole thing.

 

Erin was an adult, and she had been for a long time. She had a _freaking PhD_ for Pete’s sake. Her mother could disagree with her choice of career, but she should respect her daughter enough as a competent adult to make that choice for herself, and keep her criticism to herself. Erin didn’t come home to be torn down, she came here to be there for her mom. Erin had no idea how to speak up for herself when it came to her mother, though, her coping mechanism was to just shut down and wait for it to be over. And then she turned eighteen, moved out for college, and didn’t look back.

 

With a deep breath, Erin went back to the kitchen, where her aunt was seated and her mother was still busily cooking. Marcie Gilbert was the younger sister of Erin’s father, and by far her favorite aunt. She rarely visited because, like a sane person, she had moved all the way to Seattle.

 

“There she is! I thought you had run away,” she jokes. “Come over here and let me get a look at you.”

 

Erin shuffles over to where her aunt is seated and does a little turn, the way she did when she was little and played dress-up at Marcie’s house.

 

“Ah, it’s just as I thought,” she says with a wink, “still absolutely beautiful.”

 

Erin smiles and takes a seat next to her. “Where’s your wife?” She glances around to see if she’d missed the other woman enter the house.

 

“Elise is at her parent’s house this year. Her grandparents came over from Berlin to see the family and she wanted to be there.” Marcie pats Erin’s hand on the tabletop. “And I wanted to be here, to see you.”

 

With her aunt as a buffer between herself and her mother, Erin gets through the first night intact. Her cousins arrive sometime near midnight, but by then she’s holed herself up in her room.

 

Abby has sent her a few texts through the day, asking if she got there alright and if everything is going well. Erin replies that yes, she made it, and she’d get back to Abby on the other question. Holtz also texted her, she notices.

 

“ _You’ve got this, champ._ _Miss you already_ ”

 

_“Miss you too, I’ll talk more tomorrow. Good night.”_

 

She texts Patty as well, and falls asleep easily after everyone is replied to, holding her phone close to her chest.

               

The next few days leading up to Christmas are a little less uncomfortable. Erin busies herself by going shopping with her cousins and aunt, and reading in her room when she has any spare time. Her grandmother occasionally asks her to help with giftwrap while her grandfather smokes his pipe. The rest of the family arrives on Christmas morning, and they spend the next several hours laughing and catching up, Erin trying her hardest to tiptoe around her Ghostbuster status, and at least half a dozen questions about her love life.

               

By the afternoon of the 26th, the house is once again empty. Erin comes back inside after seeing Marcie off to find her mother waiting for her in the living room. “We need to talk,” she says, patting the couch beside her.

               

The ensuing conversation is difficult, for both of them. Amelia brings out the big manila folder and they look through the will together. Charles left Erin a considerable amount of money, as well as a few of his personal possessions.

               

“We’ll go to the bank and take care of everything else tomorrow. How about a nice dinner tonight, just the two of us?” her mother looks exhausted, but she also looks hopeful. Surely she knows that they could use some bonding time.

               

“How does Chinese sound?” Erin asks. They always ate meals at home when Erin lived here, but moving in with three women who didn’t like to cook had gotten her into a bad habit of eating takeout food more often than not.

               

“Terrific, actually.”

               

They sit on the couch together and share boxes of lo mein and fried rice. For the first time in a long time, the silence between them is comfortable. Amelia eventually gets up and digs through their movie collection until she finds _50 First Dates_.

               

The atmosphere becomes more relaxed as they settle into the movie together and occasionally make small-talk. It’s by far the most pleasant interactions they’ve had in years.

               

Drew Barrymore is high-fiving a walrus when Amelia looks over at Erin.

               

“I’d feel like a failure as a mother if I didn’t ask, so have you met anyone interesting lately?” Her meaning is unmistakable.

               

The question throws Erin off for a moment, but she tries to recover as best she can. There are so many reasons why she doesn’t want to answer.

               

“Um, no. Not really,” she lies. The last thing she wants is to gush about her feelings for Holtzmann, who is not only a woman, but who is absolutely someone her mother would never approve of, regardless of gender. The last thing she needs is to hear all the reasons why her feelings are wrong, and trying to defend and justify herself.

               

“Well, don’t work too hard, dear. That’s important, but there’s more to your life. Take it from me, you need someone to go home to at the end of the day.”

               

Erin is momentarily stunned by her mother’s response, until she realizes that between how tired she is and the buzz from the bottle of wine they’ve been drinking, she must not be at full capacity to criticize and nitpick her daughter’s life. Internally, Erin thinks that it’s the best Christmas present of all.

               

The next day, Erin wakes up early to pack her things, including several of her books and trinkets from her bedroom. This trip has been really pleasant, by her family’s standards, but she’s got a feeling that she’ll want to be ready to leave right after they finish their business at the bank. It’s better to be prepared for the worst than to be crying while sloppily tossing shirts and boots into her suitcase. Besides, this is the longest Erin’s been away from the firehouse since they’ve moved in, and Abby has been texting her about the tests they’ve been running on the Timothy Gray paintings. Holtzmann has been sending snaps of close-ups of cherub faces with captions that almost make coffee shoot out of her nose.

               

The bank is busy when they arrive, but after almost an hour they meet with Mrs. Daniels, who wears cat-eye glasses and has long press-on nails. The discussion and movement of assets doesn’t take very long, but it’s quite a bit of paperwork and signatures.

               

“Can you spare one more hour, or do you need to get going?” Amelia asks her on the drive back home. “There’s still so much food left over in the fridge, and I was wondering if you’d be interested in lunch.”

               

“I’m in no rush,” Erin replies, because she doesn’t want to break her streak of no passive-aggression between them, and because she won’t be seeing her again for a while.

               

They sit across from one another at the kitchen table and eat leftover ham and mashed potatoes. Erin’s phone chimes with a text from Abby, and it’s close enough for Amelia to catch the name.

               

“Is that Abbigail Yates?” she asks

               

Erin swallows. She can already see ahead to the part where they argue, but she attempts to give a neutral answer anyway.

               

“Yes, that’s Abby,” she confirms.

               

Her mother takes a long pause. “So, she’s on your team of ghost hunters, right?” The way she says it, with such haughtiness and condescension, makes Erin tense up.

               

“Yes, she’s on the team with me.” Her mouth feels dry.

               

“Tell me about the other two, the news reports I’ve seen were quite vague.” It’s bait, Erin knows it is, but perhaps this is her chance to tell her mother about the Ghostbusters, and to finally let her know that it’s not some silly publicity stunt, or crazy make-believe group to validate her experience as a child.

               

“Patty Tolan is our historian, she researches the backgrounds of each case in order for us to know any possible weaknesses or whatever else could be useful when approaching a paranormal entity. And Jillian Holtzmann is our head engineer, she’s responsible for making all the equipment we use.”

               

“So is Jillian the blonde butch one?”

               

Erin is reminded immediately of the first time her mother met her aunt Elise, the way she’d wrinkled her nose and had hardly even attempted to be polite, and how it was the same way she looked at Erin when she was seventeen and crying as she finally confessed to both her parents that she was bisexual. The way she’d assured Erin that, just like the elderly specter at the foot of her bed, this too was something she was making up. It washes over her like a nauseating wave.

               

“ _Yes_ , mom,” she manages to say, pushing a scrap of ham around on her half-finished plate. She’s already thinking about her packed suitcase upstairs.

               

“I hope she hasn’t been _inappropriate_ with any of you.”

               

Something finally snaps, and Erin slams both of her palms down on the tabletop and jumps to her feet. Amelia looks startled, but Erin cuts her off before she can say anything.

                 

“ _Of course_ she hasn’t mom, _Jesus_! I can’t _believe_ that you can be so closed-minded after I came out to you _myself_!”

“Darling, we've talked about this before. You’re not _really_ —“

               

“Yes I AM, mother! I’m bisexual! I’ve had boyfriends! I’ve had girlfriends! I’m not making it up for attention! In fact,” she feels like she’s floating outside her body, watching in horror and awe as she screams, “I’m _in love_ with Jillian Holtzmann!”

               

She freezes once the words are out there. She can’t believe that she’s confessed this to her _mother_ , of all people, before she’d even confessed it to herself.

               

“Erin—“

               

“What?” She feels panic setting in, or maybe it’s the adrenaline. Her voice is trembling with emotion.

               

“Erin, I wasn’t trying to be…I mean, I didn’t _know_ …” For once, Amelia Gilbert is at a loss for words. “I just don’t think you’re being honest with yourself. You’ve only ever mentioned boyfriends, you got a respectable job at a prestigious university…I just don’t _understand_ why you would throw that away.”

               

Erin can feels tears building up in her eyes. “Don’t you think I know myself well enough to make my own choices for my own happiness? Don’t you think I’ve questioned myself _every day_ about the decisions I make?” She swallows down the lump in her throat.

 

“Mom, I might be uncertain about a lot of things, but every time I’ve asked myself if I really saw Mrs. Jefferson every night, if I think my field of work is valid, and every time I’ve asked myself if I really am attracted to women, I’m _always_ certain.”

               

Amelia is silent.

               

“And if I were to be together with Jillian, I definitely wouldn’t be throwing my life or my happiness away. She’s one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. And I love being a Ghostbuster with her, and Patty, and Abby. And you know what? They’re a lot more of a family to me than you’ve been lately.”

               

“Erin—“

               

“I think I should go.” Erin grabs her phone and goes upstairs to get her things. She pauses to call a cab before she puts on her coat and double-checks to ensure that she won’t have to come back for anything. She doesn’t cry when she stands in front of her childhood mirror one last time, nor when she walks out of her house without even looking at her mom, nor on the ride back to the city, but as soon as she gets to the firehouse that night, she sobs into Abby’s chest for an hour while Holtzmann rubs her back.


	8. Chapter 8

After a day of moping, Erin devotes herself back to her research, and she also helps Abby and Holtzmann with analyzing the Timothy Gray paintings. Patty doesn’t come back until the next day, but she makes sure to give Erin the first hug when she comes in.

               

Erin hasn’t told any of them about the full extent of the argument, which had actually been Erin losing it, and her mother not being prepared enough to fight back. Holtzmann encouraged her to go back to the gym and start working out again to deal with some of the stress, but she declined. With all her old wounds reopened, Erin couldn’t imagine being alone with Holtzmann. Not for a while, not until she could get a grip again. The conversation they never got to have would just continue to be a “what if”. She was in love with Jillian, so what? It only meant the stakes were even higher, and Erin was more at risk of getting hurt than before. And even if it was only one of the possible outcomes, it wasn’t something she could handle right now. So she took a step back and hoped it wouldn’t be noticed.

               

It might have been a desire to further herself from her mother, but Erin ended up inviting April to the New Year’s Eve party.

               

“I have another party I promised I’d go to, but I’ll definitely leave that one early and come by!” The younger woman sounds ecstatic. “I can’t wait to meet your friends!”

               

The preparations are less intensive than for Christmas, since really all that’s left to do is hang a New Year’s banner and restock the fridge with alcohol. Only a small amount of people were even invited: the mayor’s assistant, Jennifer, the man Patty had recently started dating, Terry and Liza, April, and Kevin’s boyfriend, Sean, and a handful friends and acquaintances. The party begins at ten o’clock, in case there are any calls that evening about ghosts trying to help ring in the new year, and also because none of the four women are particularly interested in a long, drawn-out event. They all have more interesting things to get back to that don’t involve cleaning up plastic champagne flutes and party poppers off the floor.

               

Erin decides to wear the cashmere sweater Abby got her for Christmas, for lack of any kind of a fancy dress. And that’s exactly what April shows up in, under her fashionable coat: a bright red, form-fitting, off the shoulder dress that looks like it was made especially for her. She hugs Erin this time when she greets her, but to be fair she’s pretty buzzed from whatever party she’s just come from. Erin pats her back a couple times before pulling away from her, and invites her to go mingle. For lack of a proper rack, Erin tosses April’s coat on the sofa with the others.

               

Since Holtzmann is off somewhere, doing something, Erin rounds up just Patty and Abby and brings them to April to introduce them.

               

“It’s so exciting to actually meet you guys,” April gushes, “I keep seeing news reports on the Ghostbusters on TV, but who would’ve thought I was _related_ to one!”

               

Patty seems a bit overwhelmed by how perky this woman is, but she’s polite enough not to show it. Abby seems genuinely happy to meet her, amused by the stark contrast between the two sisters. Erin’s pretty sure it might also have something to do with the way April seems to be extremely interested in their work.

               

“It’s so ironic that your mother owns a bunch of art galleries,” Abby says with a grin, “because we actually just had a case of a gallery that got haunted by a vengeful painter.”

               

Erin excuses herself from their conversation to go into the kitchen. Maybe she would relax more if she had a drink. Liza is alone, leaning against the counter, when she comes in. She smiles at Erin.

               

“Oh, hey Liza.” Erin manages to return the smile as she goes to the sink for some ice. “Are you looking for Holtz?”

               

“No, actually, I just saw her. I just wanted a quiet drink.” The green-eyed woman looks down into the swirling liquid in her glass. “Terry still hasn’t left the office.”

               

Erin fills her glass and stands beside Liza. “Was she supposed to come here with you?”

               

“Yeah, but this time of year always stresses her out. I keep telling her that she shouldn’t get so worked up over every little thing, but she can’t help it, I guess. She’s a perfectionist.” Liza looks wistful for a moment, before returning the smile to her face as she looks up at Erin. “She’ll be here soon, though. She just called me.”

               

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad that you made it.” Erin is tapping into her residual politeness from all the years of going to fancy dinner parties with her parents, but she also genuinely likes Liza and Terry. They’re about the same age as her, and some of the nicest people she’s ever met.

               

“I’m glad I came. It feels like we never get to go socialize these days.”

               

Erin can hear Patty’s unmistakable laughter and assumes that things with April must be going well. She feels a little relieved about that, it’s one less thing to worry about.

               

“We’ve missed you at the gym,” Liza mentions, taking a drink from her glass. “Are you thinking about coming back soon?”

               

“Maybe, I’m not sure,” Erin admits, even though she does miss working out. “I’ll have to take care of a few things first.”

               

“No pressure or anything, I know you must be busy with all of this.” Liza gestures around them, meaning the firehouse, and the Ghostbusters by extension. “How about next time you come in, I’ll give you a massage? I’m a licensed physical therapist.”

               

“Oh, wow. That sounds amazing, actually.” Erin’s free hand reaches up to her shoulder and she can feel the tenseness.

               

“Perfect,” Liza says.

               

That’s about the time that Terry arrives, and Erin sees her in something other than athletic wear for the first time. She cleans up nicely in a red button-up. “Erin, nice to see you again!” She beams as she walks into the kitchen. “Have you been out there? It’s crazy.” Terry points to the door, meaning that the impromptu dance floor must be the site of said craziness. Now that she mentions it, Erin realizes that the music has been cranked up. She excuses herself even though Liza and Terry are following after her.

               

There, in the middle of the room, are April and Holtzmann, dancing enthusiastically to _September_ while everyone else laughs and watches. Erin’s stomach sinks with dread. They aren’t just both dancing at the same time, they’re dancing _together_. Holtzmann is grinning as she twirls April around. Soon, more people are joining in. Holtzmann catches Erin’s eye and leaves April to dance by herself in favor of going over and taking the physicist’s hand.

               

“Come dance with me, pretty lady,” she says with a wink. “I have my best party playlist on for this occasion.” The mixture of conflicting emotions is giving Erin a headache. Is she jealous? Is she happy? She’s frazzled, that’s for sure.

               

“Sorry, Holtz. I need some air. Maybe later.” She gently pulls her hand out of Holtzmann’s grip and heads all the way up to the roof, while the engineer tries not to look hurt.

               

The sting of cold night air feels good, if not a little shocking at first. It would be a beautiful moment if her feelings hadn’t been dragged to hell and back lately. Confusion and uncertainty settles over her, but she tries to think logically, scientifically. What are the facts here?

 

  1. She was currently avoiding Holtzmann because she wasn’t sure how to approach the whole _love_ thing _,_ whichwas still totally reasonable to her, despite probably causing future problems.
  2. She hadn’t told anyone anything yet, not counting her mother who would be less than useless in offering Erin comfort or advice.
  3. April was getting along with Erin’s friends so far. She wasn’t sure if she should feel happy or jealous, and if her own insecurities were effecting her judgement one way or another. It was too early to tell.
  4. April and Holtzmann had been dancing, but it was hard to tell if it was in any kind of romantic context, or if they had both wanted to dance, which was also definitely plausible.
  5. Adding alcohol to this cocktail of emotions was a mistake after all.



 

Maybe she should test one of her hypotheses to collect more data, and invite April to group outings in the near future to see how she really feels about this. She still thinks that she should keep her distance from Holtzmann for now, though.

 

Once her head has cleared a little, and the numbness of the cold turns to pain, Erin goes back inside and rejoins the party. She dances with Abby to _Hot Stuff_ and _Boogie Wonderland_ , and tries to forget about everything important until tomorrow.

At 11:59, everyone watches the TV coverage of Times Square, and they count down together. No one but the few couples present kiss at midnight, everyone else just toasts one another and set off the party poppers. Holtzmann offers people homemade sparklers and black cats, but Patty and Erin eventually dissuade her from going to get them.

 

At 1:00 AM, everyone has left, including Patty who winked and said “goodnight, ladies”. The three remaining Ghostbusters cleaned up the cups and confetti for an hour before they all went off to bed.

 

The next day, Erin felt like she had more control over the situation now that she was rested. She texted April about meeting up again soon, to which April replied that she’d love to, and to just let her know when. Erin helped take down the last of their Christmas decorations, until the firehouse finally looked back to normal, and then she dug into her research again.  The numbers helped ease her anxiety, they were constant, solvable, and they made sense to her.

 

It’s a week later when they go out to dinner with April. Since five is an awkward number, they get seated in a big wrap-around booth, and April insists on sitting next to Erin since she hadn’t seen much of her at the party.

 

“So Erin, can I hear about you’re currently working on?” she asks, playing with the straw in her cocktail glass.

 

“Oh, um, I don’t know…it’ll probably sound boring—“

 

“I really would love to hear it,” April insists, putting on her best winning smile. “Please? For your favorite sister?”

 

Abby looks at Erin encouragingly from across the table. “I’d actually like to hear it too, Er.”

 

“Okay, well,” Erin takes a deep breath, “basically, I’ve been attempting to analyze the ectoplasm produced by ghosts. It’s used both as a defense and a residue when they’re destroyed or they phase through objects. Some produce more than average, and some don’t seem to at all. The next step will probably be to attempt to—“

 

“Dissect them.” Holtzmann interrupts suddenly. “Holy balls! Erin, that’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me you want to start dissecting? I could definitely, definitely help you with that.” The engineer’s eyes are glittering with the manic expression that tells Erin that there are already a million and one new ideas going through her head at the mere concept of a ghost-dissector. This was what Erin was afraid of, a project with more alone time with Holtzmann.

 

“I’m not quite there yet, Holtz.” Erin grimaces a little, but April is looking at the two of them with awe.

 

“Wow, you guys must really be geniuses,” she murmurs.

 

“Nah, we’re just little weirdos who played with lab kits and read history books instead of making friends.” Holtzmann replies.

 

April laughs at Holtzmann and Patty’s jokes all evening, and is equally charming and flattering and adorable with those big green eyes of hers. Erin decides that she’s essentially harmless, even if a little ditzy when she comes near alcohol. At the end of the night, April has acquired all of their numbers, and by the end of the month she’s started to visit the firehouse without giving Erin a warning beforehand. A couple weeks after that, she’s walking in with Patty after they went on a doughnut run one morning, and going out with Abby for a drink, and sitting on the extra stool in Holtzmann’s lab to make some movement sketches of her while they discuss favorite bands. They’re little things, but they accumulate quickly.

 

Erin is happy that April is being welcomed into the group, she’s happy about going out to lunch with her sister and trying new trendy foods with her. It’s nice. It feels normal, and normalcy is something Erin’s been craving lately.

 

Then, something _weird_ starts happening.

 

Abby and April forget to mention that they’re going to see the new movie based on one of Erin’s favorite books. April is canceling brunch at the new Mexican-Korean fusion place, but is happily painting roses onto Patty’s nails when Erin comes back from eating alone. Holtzmann is cackling while April does ridiculous poses with the wrenches and pipes, and her eyes are lighting up when April talks about collaborating on an ironwork sculpture.

 

Erin starts having to fake a smile when April visits, and she starts sneaking off to the gym when she knows that Holtz is busy or has already gone. She really, really needs that massage or she’s going to snap.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drama.jpeg

Liza has magic hands. The massages are well-worth the discomfort Erin feels about being touched by acquaintances, and the mild guilt she experiences over sneaking around Holtzmann just for the sake of not having to explain herself. She knows that if or when it comes to that, she’ll fall apart. She can’t do that right now though, because falling apart is all she seems to be doing lately. Besides, it’s practically an Erin Gilbert specialty to watch meaningful relationships fall apart while she does absolutely nothing to prevent it. Just take it from Abby.

               

From a silver lining sort of perspective, Erin finds that she very much enjoys talking to Liza during their sessions. She chose physical therapy as her profession, which she operates through the gym, but she double-majored in bio-chemistry. Erin has never been a fan of the slimier side of science, ironically, but there are some places where their fields overlap. It also gives Erin a way to consult someone who isn’t the object her affections about her research. Erin’s hour-long disappearances go unnoticed, as she had assumed they would. It’s both a relief and a disappointment.

 

Holtzmann stops coming by her desk as often, after asking about the ghost dissections and being met with Erin outright dismissing her help on multiple occasions. She doesn’t seem to be too ruffled by this, although she keeps looking like she’s about to say something, but doesn’t. Erin also notices that she and Abby are having a lot more quiet arguments which usually involve gesturing to the physicist, and Holtzmann going up to her lab in a huff. Abby starts giving Erin exasperated looks before shaking her head and walking off.

 

April hangs out with Patty and Abby often, she’s even started referring to Abby as “Abs”, which is a nickname reserved only for close friends. Point being, she comes around basically any time that they aren’t actively dealing with a ghost. She’s an extrovert, bouncing around a group of introverts like a Ping-Pong ball: If Holtzmann starts getting too involved with her welding, April visits with Abby, and if Abby is too busy scribbling out frantic notes to herself, April moves on to Patty. If Patty is too busy brushing up on the history of serial killers in Brooklynn, then April will finally pop over to Erin’s desk and tell her that she never sees her anymore, that the physicist is always out doing something whenever she wants to hang out. Holtz overhears while bringing in a new armload of scrap metal, and fixes Erin in a hard stare before going back upstairs.

 

April eventually has her fill of sister-bonding and goes upstairs “to see if Jillian can teach me how to weld”. It’s obvious to Erin who her favorite really is.

 

Erin decides to be somewhat of an adult and try to end this suffering. She gets April alone one night while Holtzmann and Abby have gone out to pick up a couple pizzas, and Patty is occupied with a documentary about the prohibition era. After she asks to speak with April privately about something, she leads the younger woman upstairs to an empty lab space, and takes a breath.

               

“You’ve been hanging out here a lot lately,” Erin begins, resisting the urge to start pacing, “and I just want to discuss some things.”

               

“Of course.” April looks at her expectantly.

               

“Well, you can probably tell by now that I’m not the most…social person ever. I don’t get out much. I don’t have many friends. Basically, what I’m trying to say is that these are the three I’ve got, and—“

               

“You want me to back off,” April finishes for Erin. She looks understanding, which is a good sign.

               

“Um, yes, I guess you could put it like that. It’s not that I don’t want you around, it’s just that I miss having alone time with them.”

               

“I get it, completely.” April nods empathetically. “I’m _so_ sorry Erin, I really didn’t mean to make you feel like I was trying to steal your friends. I mean, I’ve never had friends like this, either. I guess I got a little carried away.”

               

“Also,” Erin looks away. “In addition to that request, I also noticed that you and Holtzmann have been spending a lot of time together? And I, um, I like her.”

               

Recognition crosses April’s features, then shock. “Oh my god, you like Jillian? I mean _, like_ , as in romantically?”

               

“Yes.”

               

“So what you’re saying is ease up on coming by as often, and stop pursuing Jillian?”

               

Erin swallows, staring at the plain wall beside her. “Yes.”

               

Her sister pauses a moment, but then she’s crossed into Erin’s personal space and is squeezing her in a tight hug. “ _Of course_ I will,” she promises. “They’re _your_ friends, and you probably had a thing Jillian well before I even started coming around.”

               

Erin is so surprised and relieved by this turn of events that she returns the embrace. “Thank you.”

               

“No need to thank me. You’re my sister, I’d _never_ want to hurt you.”

               

They both return to the living room and join Patty on the sofa to watch the end of the documentary with her.

               

Later that night, Erin’s phone chimes while she’s reading in bed.

 

It’s from April:

               

_“_ _I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”_

Then, before she can respond, another:

               

“ _WHOOPS sorry sister dear, this was for a guy I’ve been seeing ;-)”_

With Erin’s luck, that wasn’t likely.

               

* * *

 

               

April’s promise lasts for all of two weeks before she starts hanging around the firehouse again, but Erin notices that she’s attempting to keep her included in the group activities. Erin’s interactions with her are becoming more passive-aggressive with every passing day. It’s already the end of February when things for from bad to even worse.

               

Erin is leaving Liza’s office when she bumps into someone.

               

“Oh, I’m so sorry—“ She starts to reach for the water bottle she’d accidentally knocked out of their hand, but then she sees the unmistakable blue eyes, and her chest aches. “Holtzmann.”

               

“Fancy meeting you here,” she says flatly, her expression neutral. Erin can’t read her eyes, but they definitely aren’t glowing in the way Holtzmann usually regards her. She swallows nervously.

               

“Can we…can we talk about this? Back at the lab…?” She’s obviously squirming under Holtzmann’s stare, as guilty as a child with their hand in the cookie jar.

               

Holtzmann seems to be weighing her options before she finally shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Let me work out first.” She walks past Erin without waiting for a response.

               

It’s over an hour before she comes back to the firehouse, and Erin has been pacing laps around the lab. Holtz dumps her gym bag on one of the multiple work benches scattered around the room.

               

“Holtz, please let me explain—“

               

“Oh, I intend to get _all_ the answers. But I’ll be the one to talk first.” Holtzmann cuts her off, but her tone is unnervingly calm. “The first question is the most obvious of the bunch: why have you been avoiding me like the plague? At first I thought it was something to do with your mom, so I gave you space, but now I’m starting to take it personally.”

               

“I…” Erin can’t meet the shorter woman’s eyes, biting her lip.

               

Holtzmann sighs. “Erin, this isn’t like you. I’m _worried_. Usually when I propose a collab, you’re on board before I’m done asking. Am I doing something wrong?”

               

“No, no. You’re fine, you’re perfect. It’s just…the whole thing with _April_.” Her voice cracks, and that’s when Erin can feel the whole dam breaking, the word-vomit is soon to follow. “April has been hanging out here so much lately, and it just feels like, like…you guys like her more than you like me.” It comes out as a pathetic mumble, but the words are out there.

               

“Erin,” Holtzmann’s eyebrows furrow slightly as she regards the brunette, as if she can’t quite figure her out, “sweet little gumdrop Erin. Look at me please.”

               

She looks up from the concrete floor to meet Holtzmann’s eyes, and she’s met with nothing but gentle sympathy.

               

“ _No one_ can replace you. April is a lot of fun, but she’s no you. Have you told anyone else how you feel?”

               

Erin shakes her head. “I didn’t want any of you to feel like you aren’t allowed to hang out with her. I always used to be a little controlling when it came to Abby making new friends. I don’t want to do that, you’re all adults and can make those choices for yourself.”

               

Holtzmann hums. “That is very true, but Erin, you have to remember that your feelings are important too, _especially_ to us. We want you to let us know when you’re sad or uncomfortable, it’s all valid.”

               

Erin nods her head, but she remains quiet.

               

“So here’s the million dollar question,” Holtzmann says into the silence between them. “Is there anything else going on?”

               

“What do you mean?” Erin knows what she means.

               

“I mean,” Holtzmann walks right up to her and looks her dead in the eyes, “is there anything, _anything at all_ , that you want to share with the class?”

               

She _knows_. Erin can see it, the way her blue eyes are searching her own for the answer. But she can’t read past Holtz’s poker face, the guarded way she’s composed herself.

               

This is the moment of truth, the speech Erin’s been waiting to give for months now, the resolution to all the drama, the answer to the question, the solution to this equation. The timing is right, and there are no distractions or interruptions.

 

But then the self-consciousness creeps in, Erin second-guesses herself, and the momentum she’d built-up all this time amounts to nothing but a train wreck. “No. Nothing,” she says.

 

If Holtzmann is hurt at all, she doesn’t show it. She’s quiet for a long while, and then she nods, slowly. “Alright…you’re dismissed.”

 

Erin feels nauseous, like a passenger in a car, watching the destination pass her in the windows. “Are we ok?” She’s almost afraid to ask.

               

“Of course we are, Gilbert. Don’t agonize over every little thing.” Holtzmann reaches out and smacks Erin’s arm playfully, instead of the usual affectionate pat.

               

“Okay.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a much needed break from the regularly scheduled conflict, ft. actual plot relevance

By comparison, telling Patty and Abby how she feels is a walk in the park. They too assure Erin that there’s no replacing her, and that they promise to celebrate her upcoming birthday with just the four of them. None of them offer to stop hanging out with April, which honestly would’ve made Erin feel better at this point.

 

The calls keep the Ghostbusters busy for the entire beginning of March, so April isn’t around as often. Holtzmann starts working on the ghost-dissector upon Erin’s request, which allows them to hang out together again and try to salvage their friendship. And then on some evenings, Holtz disappears for an hour or so, which Erin tries her hardest to ignore.

 

One afternoon, Jennifer Lynch comes in, holding an official-looking envelope, complete with a gold seal. She gives the team one of her smiles that shows her gums but doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

 

“Hello ladies, I’m here to cordially invite you to the Ghostbuster’s Charity Gala!” she announces, and hands Abby the envelope.

 

“Come again?” Abby asks, while Erin takes the envelope to examine it.

 

“Surprise!” Jennifer says with forced enthusiasm. “The votes are in, and the general public seems to think you an award for all that you’ve done this year. You’re truly a fan-favorite. So we’ll be holding the Ghostbuster’s Charity Gala to raise money for some sort of cancer research, and notable heroes throughout the last year will be awarded medals. You’ll be the guests of honor, of course.”

 

“So what you really mean to say is that you’re trying to boost public opinion of the mayor before he runs for reelection,” Patty deadpans.

 

“Well, yes. But it _is_ for a good cause, and you would all have a glamorous all-expenses-paid night, and your precious public validation.” Jennifer’s smile hasn’t wavered, it looks painful.

 

“You guys must be pre-tty desperate,” Holtzmann snorts, crossing her arms.

 

“Yes, well, we kind of are. But I would like to point out that we fund your entire operation. Another mayor probably won’t see the need for a _ghost research_ team on his payroll.”

 

“We’re in,” Abby says, without even having to even look at the others to confirm. “And for the record, we would’ve agreed even if you were just having a charity event out of the kindness of your hearts.”

 

“Perfect,” Jennifer clasps her hands together. “It’s on April 18th and starts at 7:00 sharp. We’ll be sending a car for you at 6:30. The rest of the details are in that packet. It’s been _so_ nice to see you again.” She flashes another smile that looks suspiciously like it’s saying ‘don’t mess this up or you’ll be on the street in no time’, and leaves just as quickly as she’d arrived.

 

The Ghostbusters all exchange looks before they tear open the pristine envelope and read through all of Jennifer’s meticulous guidelines and scheduling for the evening. Included as well are four invitations in beautiful calligraphy.

 

“ _Y’all_ ,” Patty gasps, her voice soft with surprise. “No way, **no way!** They’re giving us medals at the freaking _Radio City Music Hall_!” She’s practically bouncing with excitement, wearing one of her most radiant smiles.

 

“Are you **serious**?” Erin reads the page over her shoulder.

 

“Holy _shit_ ,” Holtzmann whistles. “These people really must be desperate to even let us _near_ that place.”

* * *

 

 

On the morning of March 16th, Erin’s birthday, her friends all shower her with affection and make her a fancy breakfast. Patty and Abby give Erin two boxes. The first one is filled with a bunch of various items: her favorite brand of tea, several packs of her favorite pens, a couple hard-bound copies of her favorite books, and several pairs of socks with different silly patterns on them. The second box has a label on it that says “open me later”, which would probably concern her if it were from Holtz. To her slight confusion, Holtzmann claimed that she wanted to wait until that night to present her with whatever she’d made.

 

They make plans to go to dinner that evening, so until then they can all focus on work. Erin is sitting cross-legged on the stool in Holt’z lab with a notebook of equations on her lap, while the blonde was hunched over the guts of the dissector, wearing rubber gloves to protect her from the occasional spark, her goggle lenses glowing in the sporadic light.

 

Erin has been trying to figure out a way to recover from and deal with her most recent, catastrophic screw-up, but decides that their friendship and partnership was more important right now. It was Erin’s mistake to deal with, and she would handle it in time.

 

“Pass me that thingy,” Holtzmann doesn’t look over, she just gestures in the general area of whatever tool she needs. Her absentmindedness is proof that she’s fully invested in this project, it’s a miracle that she’s even acknowledging Erin’s existence right now.

 

Erin takes a moment to look at what she’s currently doing before choosing to hand her the pliers. “Here.”

               

Holtz hums appreciatively. “Thank you,” she sing-songs under her breath before continuing.

               

Erin smiles softly and lets her eyes linger on Holtzmann’s profile before moving them back to the numbers in front of her.

 

They start getting ready to go out later that evening, and Abby tells Erin to make sure to open the mysterious second box before she gets dressed.

 

“I swear to god, Er, if you come back downstairs and you’re wearing plaid or tweed for your fancy birthday dinner, I’m going to kill myself.” She says it with pleading eyes. “I beg of you.”

 

“Ok, ok _, jeez_.” Erin looks offended, because she still doesn’t quite understand why everyone thinks her taste in clothes is so awful.

 

She goes upstairs and sets the box on her bed, gently removing the lid to reveal folded black fabric with a sticky-note on top that says “wear me”. Erin slowly pulls it out, and the fabric unfurls into a simple black dress with a knee-length skirt. She doesn’t seem to understand why this is so superior to a tasteful skirt suit, but when she puts the dress on, she gets it. Patty and Abby have managed to buy her a dress cut that flatters her figure in a way she didn’t know was possible, and the fabric was breathable and way more comfortable than most of Erin’s wardrobe.

 

Erin feels inspired by the quality of the dress, so she wears the necklace she got for Christmas, and the one pair of heels she owns that are actually _not_ murder on her feet. She even digs out some makeup from the drawer of her bedside table, and applies it in the mirror Holtzmann made for her. She pauses to brush her fingertips over the engraving before she opens it, and feels the same fluttering in her chest as the first time she saw it.

 

When she comes downstairs, everyone is already waiting. Abby is wearing a blazer over a printed blouse, Patty is in a vibrant scooped-neck top, and Holtzmann is donning a paisley vest over a button-up with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. They all stop what they're doing and stare.

 

“Ok, you look _hot_ ,” Patty says with wide eyes. “Like, _smoking hot_.”

 

“Yeah she does!” Abby shouts, and they high-five excitedly.

 

Holtzmann keeps staring, and makes a weird noise before quickly clearing her throat and stuffing her hands in her pockets.

 

Patty and Abby share a knowing look before they usher Erin out of the firehouse. The restaurant Erin has picked is only a couple blocks away, and the weather is warm enough for them to walk instead of trying to pile into a cab together.

 

“So it’s Italian food, right?” Patty asks, picking up the rear of their little train as they move down the sidewalk. As they near the strip of shops and clubs, the foot traffic gets heavier.

 

“Yeah, and their tiramisu is amazing,” Erin assures her, already imagining how good their dessert will taste. Abby made sure to get reservations beforehand, so they get seated in a nice booth in a well-lit section of the restaurant. Abby sits beside Erin, and Patty gestures for Holtzmann to take the spot across from the birthday girl.

 

The dinner is a nice break from their recently hectic lives, and Erin gets her much-needed reassurance that she still has her amazing friends. In fact, the attention on her is almost overwhelming. Holtzmann in particular can’t seem to look anywhere else, but wears a somewhat conflicted expression throughout the evening. Erin isn’t sure if she should be flustered or concerned.

 

After sharing the tiramisu four ways, they start heading back down the street for the firehouse, but Abby tugs on Erin’s arm and begs her to go to a club instead of watching _50 First Dates_ for the millionth time.

 

“It would be such a waste if you only looked this good at a restaurant, Er. You look like you’re _supposed_ to be in a club, and let’s be honest, when’s the next time that’ll happen?”

 

Erin glances at the dark, pulsing building, lit within by a rainbow of strobe lights. “What do you guys think? Patty? Holtz?”

 

“It’s whatever you want to do, this is your night,” Patty replies. Holtzmann shrugs with a noncommittal grunt that Erin interprets to mean the same thing.

 

“Erin, I promise we’ll leave the moment you want to, but maybe you’ll have fun?” Abby’s eyes are entreating, and occasionally moving over to the building.

 

“Alright, alright. What the hell.” Erin laughs nervously, but follows Abby who’s already made a beeline for the doors.  Once inside, she’s almost immediately overstimulated. Between the sheer amount of people, the deafening music, and the flashing overhead lights, Erin suddenly feels like she’s free-floating in a sea of discomfort. Holtzmann must notice her sudden tenseness, because she stays by her side and rubs her arm gently.

 

“You know we can leave right now,” she shouts over the music. “I know Abby can be pushy, but she’d leave if you’re too freaked out.”

 

Erin tries to keep to the walls. Abby has gone over to the bar, and Patty disappeared into the bathroom. “No, I’m fine. I think I just need to sit down and get used to this,” she yells back. Together, they creep along the fringe of the crowd until they reach the booths at the back, Holtzmann keeps a hand on her arm the whole time. They sit down together and Holtz is about to say something when her phone buzzes. She glances at the screen without unlocking it, before grimacing and returning the device to her pocket.

 

“Who was that?” Erin asks.

 

“No one important.”

 

She has no real reason to be suspicious of Holtzmann, so she accepts the answer without comment. Abby finds them with a grin, carrying with her a round of shots.

 

“If you had asked me if I’d want to do this in high school, I probably would’ve laughed in your face, but this is actually gonna be a lot of fun.” Abby passes the shot glasses around the table. “I guess you just have to have the right people around you.” She holds hers up before downing it in one go, scrunching her face up for a moment at the taste.

 

Holtzmann takes the shot just after Abby, and slaps her hand down on the tabletop. “Next time, be a peach and get me a beer.”

 

Erin examines the liquid before tossing it back as well. She coughs as the burning sensation tears its way down her esophagus, and Holtz has to pat her back a couple times. “You ok there?”

 

“Abby,” Erin says once she recovers, “I’d also like a beer for the next round.”

 

That’s about the time that Patty rejoins them. “Guys,” she says, casually downing her drink mid-sentence, “have you seen the bubble machine over there? They’ve got it pointed right towards their restrooms, and I think they loaded it with way too much soap, because it’s starting to look like an overflowing washing machine over there. I don’t know about you, but personally I don’t find it very fun and cool when you’re trying to go pee and you have to walk through a curtain of suds get to the ladies room.”

 

“Is it really?” Holtzmann asks, looking like she definitely does find the concept of bathroom bubbles to be fun and cool.

 

Patty sighs, no longer phased by her friend’s bizarreness. “Yeah. Go crazy, Holtzy.”

 

The engineer excuses herself to go play with the bubble machine, and Abby goes to get them some less terrible drinks. Patty is looking out at the wall of people surrounding them. “So, would you wanna dance in a while?” she asks.

 

“Maybe,” Erin supposes. She hasn’t gone dancing at a club since college, and now she doesn’t quite know how to get back into it.

 

Once Abby comes back again with their second round, Erin starts to feel less overwhelmed. Eventually, Holtzmann also returns, with foam in her hair and a mischievous smirk. Patty coerces them onto the dancefloor once they finish their drinks, and Erin actually _enjoys_ herself, swaying between her three friends. Holtzmann eventually takes her by the hand and spins her, and then they’re dancing together, their bodies pushed closer by the people surrounding them. Erin is too buzzed to care though, she’s laughing and stumbling, and Holtzmann’s arms are steadying her enough that they can match the rhythm of the music.


	11. Chapter 11

By the time they leave the club, it’s midnight, and Erin’s feet are absolutely killing her. They walk home together, all of them buzzing with lingering energy. Abby may or may not be drunk.

 

Once they get inside, everyone scatters off in different directions. Erin dumps herself onto the couch and kicks off her shoes, while Patty bids her goodnight and tries to maneuver Abby upstairs to bed, and Holtzmann goes to her room to retrieve Erin’s much-anticipated present. The physicist is massaging her own feet when Holtzmann reappears.

 

“Before I give this to you,” she says a bit nervously, taking a seat beside Erin, “I want you to know something.”

 

Erin furrows her eyebrows and sits up straighter, her lightened mood quickly dissolving into worry.

 

“I’m going to the gala with April. As my date.” She looks down at her hands. 

 

“Oh.” Erin feels like she’s being punched directly in the chest. She doesn’t know what to say.

 

“I would’ve told you sooner, but I wanted to wait for us to be alone. I want to make sure we’re still ok. I know she’s your sister and that could get weird. So, is it ok?”

 

Erin’s mouth is dry. She wants to say no. She wants to be upset, wants to be righteously angry, but even in her emotional and alcohol-induced haze, she knows this is her fault. She’s the one who blew it. She can’t blame Holtzmann for wanting to have a date to the gala.

 

“No, no. It’s totally fine.” She attempts to sound assuring, instead of like she’s dying inside. 

 

“I also, ah, wanted to give you something else in addition to this, because I’ve been planning your birthday present for a while. But now it seems kind of...inappropriately-timed, so here you go.” She hands Erin a box wrapped once again in comic strips. "Maybe I'll give you the last part eventually."

 

Erin looks down at it for a while. “Thank you.”

 

“Happy birthday. Sorry if I killed the mood.”

 

“No, I’m glad you told me,” Erin says quickly. “Thanks Holtz.”

 

Holtzmann looks deeply uncomfortable in spite of Erin's reassurance, she won’t meet her eyes. Her phone buzzes in her pocket again, and this time Erin knows that it’s April. The blonde doesn’t even move to reach for it. “Anyway,” she says with a tired sigh, “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“Good night,” Erin hears herself say. She sits there for ten minutes, looking down blankly at Garfield and Charlie Brown, and tries to fight back frustrated tears. She makes sure Holtz really has gone to bed before retiring to her own bedroom. She waits until her door has been locked to tear away at the paper until the box is exposed enough to rip the top off it.

 

The box contains a bunch of various objects, padded by shredded newspaper. On top of the contents is a handmade card with Erin’s name spelled out in blue glitter glue. The inside is a little pop-up ghost flying out at her, with ectoplasm surrounding it. In green block letters, it reads “Happy Boo-day”, and there’s a little speech bubble next to the ghost that says “you just got slimed!” Erin sets the card aside, trying not to smile in spite of herself. Underneath the card is a piece of paper that’s written in Holtzmann’s endearingly messy scrawl. It says “I O U: One Ghost-Dissector” with a small sketch of what Erin assumes it’ll look like when it’s finished. Another paper reads “This is Erin Gilbert’s reminder to actually use her mirror”, and this one has a doodle of Erin, holding the giant compact in her hands and smiling while it illuminates her face, complete with little sparkles and rainbows around her.

 

There’s an indentation inside the box that looks like something used to be there, but was removed. Erin moves on to the bottom of the box, and pulls out a Bill Nye t-shirt that says “Science Rules!” on it. The sticky note on it reads “because you both wear snazzy bowties”. Erin can tell by the faded image of Bill that it’s been worn, and upon sniffing it she realizes that it must be one of Holtz’s own shirts. The fabric is soft, and it smells like detergent and her shampoo. Erin, hating herself for it, puts on the shirt once she changes out of the dress. She curls up on her bed and tries to sleep, but when she can’t get comfortable, she sits up and decides to text April.

 

“ _We need to talk. ASAP._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Patty and Abby take Erin out to shop for dresses while Holtzmann goes to get fitted for a suit. Erin figures that with their success of the black dress, that maybe there’s something to it. The team has been given a budget to buy their attire for the gala, because apparently they’re legitimately worried that the Ghostbusters are going to show up in their grimy jumpsuits. So they aren’t the least bit sorry when they head straight for the upscale dress shops nearby.

 

Patty goes first, carrying armloads of gowns into her dressing room while Abby and Erin sit patiently to judge them like they’re in an early-2000s romantic comedy. Erin’s never felt so stereotypically girly in her life. Patty manages to look stunning in every single one of them, but it’s definitely the brighter colors that look the best. They narrow the choices between a strapless green dress, and a bright teal one with a flared skirt.

 

“I think we’ve reached a stalemate,” Abby sighs. “You’ve been going between the same two for the past fifteen minutes.”

 

“You’re right,” Patty concedes, looking over her shoulder at the mirror to see the rhinestone details on the back. “I look too good in both of these to choose. So I’ll tell you what, I’ll let you and Erin go and I’ll pick whichever one looks different from your dresses.”

 

Abby trades places with Patty after they search the store for dresses in her size, and she falls in love with the first gown she tries on: a ballgown with a champagne-colored bodice and a strawberry-red tulle skirt. She can’t stop smiling as she twirls.

 

“And you know what the best part is? We aren’t paying a dime for this!” she exclaims so loudly that the sales rep looks at them suspiciously. “Oh no no—we _are_ paying for these, I swear!”

 

Finally, it’s Erin’s turn. She tries to look for herself, but it takes all of ten minutes to leave her confused and overwhelmed, so Patty and Abby sit her down and go make some choices for her. “If you don’t want any of these, you can go look for yourself again,” Abby promises her, before disappearing back into the sea of chiffon and satin.

                               

Erin is presented with a rainbow of options by her friends, and they dump them into her open arms until she disappears behind them. Once she’s alone in the changing room, Erin ties up her hair and starts to strap herself into them. One by one, Patty and Abby gently turn them down. Erin tries not to be frustrated. Finally, she gets to the final choice: a purple, strapless column gown with a slit up the side. When she comes out to be judged for the last time, Patty and Abby share a look.

 

“Yes. _Definitely_.” Patty holds up two thumbs-ups.

 

“Our best work yet!” Abby covers her mouth with her hands, looking just a little emotional. “God, we’re going to look _so_ good.”

 

Holtzmann seems to have had similar success when she comes back, carrying a new box of dress shoes and a receipt for her tux. “It’ll be done by next week,” she assures them.

               

Erin moves on to the next challenge: talking to April. She knows herself, and she knows that if she doesn’t confront her sister now, she’ll be way more likely to make a scene when she sees her at the gala. And she needs to be mad at _someone_.  


               

They meet at the firehouse at Erin’s request, and immediately go up to her room so that April doesn’t have time to get cozy with Abby over on the sofa.

               

“Erin, you worried me with that text. I thought you were _dying_ or something,” April laughs, looking more amused than she does concerned.

               

“You told me you were going to stop pursuing Holtzmann.” Erin doesn’t have time for jokes, but her steely demeanor barely disguises the fact that her heart is racing.

               

April sobers a little, but she doesn’t look surprised or apologetic in the slightest. “Erin, I know I promised you that I would but, well, I talked to Jillian and I decided that _she_ should make her choice. So we’ve still been seeing each other, and I guess she’s decided.” She shrugs and smiles at Erin. “Sorry.”

               

Erin takes a moment to inhale deeply. She’s absolutely _fuming_. “But, you _did_ promise me. You said you’d _never_ try to hurt me.”

               

April raises an eyebrow. “I understand that you’re mad at me, but come on. You’ve known Jillian for almost a whole year now. If you _really_ wanted to be with her _that_ badly, you should’ve made your move sooner. I don’t know what to tell you.”

               

That’s when it really dawns on Erin, that April makes a good only child. She never wanted to be Erin’s family, she just saw what Erin had and got an opportunity to try and take it. The information about their father and the bonding time was just her way of making a good impression, and to get a little closure for her father as a bonus. Then, once she had access to Erin’s friends, Erin herself became little more than an obstacle, someone to appease in order to get her out of the way, and occasionally use for a free meal if she felt like it. April was a spoiled brat, used to getting whatever she wanted because of her bubbly personality and her looks. And here Erin thought a Grade A bitch of this caliber only existed in movies.

               

“Anyway,” April looks at her watch, “I can’t help it who Jillian, or really any of your friends, prefer.”

               

“For the record, they all said that they prefer me.” Erin seethes.

               

April smiles pityingly. “Aw, you actually had to _ask_ them? _Sweetie_ …” She clicks her tongue. “I’d stay to comfort you, but I’ve got an appointment at a highly coveted dress boutique today, and I wanted to go see Jillian while I’m here.”

               

“You know she prefers you call her Holtzmann, right?”

               

“Oh, I’ve asked before, and trust me, she doesn’t mind it if it’s _me_.” April smiles, similarly to Jennifer’s, and leaves Erin by herself, feeling even worse than before.

               

Tears push their way to brims of her eyes, and she bites her lip as a wave of nausea washes over her. April stabbed her in the back in a way that would make Regina George proud. To top it all off, there are the words she’d used: _You’ve known Jillian for almost a whole year now. If you really wanted to be with her that badly, you should’ve made your move sooner._ The truth to them cuts her deep.


	12. Chapter 12

It takes Erin two hours to talk herself into going to tell the others about April. When she comes downstairs, Patty and Abby are watching TV together while they eat lunch.

 

“Your sandwich is in the kitchen!” Patty calls out to her, smiling.

 

“Er, are you alright?” Abby asks, looking up and seeing the way she’s squeezing her hands together and staring off at nothing. Patty does a double take when Abby speaks up, her brows furrowing in concern.

 

Under the sympathetic gaze of both her friends. She sits on the couch beside Patty. “Where’s Holtz? I need to talk to her too.”

 

“April managed to convince her to go dress shopping and to lunch, I guess,” Abby replies. “You can talk to both of us, though.”

 

Erin fidgets. “April just told me…that she’s purposely trying to make you guys like her more than me.” She’s paraphrasing, but it’s still the truth. It’s only when the words are out there when she realizes how ridiculous and juvenile they sound.

 

“What?” Patty looks confused.

 

“Erin, is this about what you told us a couple weeks ago? We promise that we’re not replacing you.” Abby tries to soothe her with her tone. “Just because she’s coming to the gala doesn’t mean she’s taking anything away from you. She’s not going to go up on stage with us, she’s not joining the Ghostbusters, she’s just a friend.”

 

“No, I mean she’s literally, _purposely_ trying to steal you guys away,” Erin insists.

 

“Baby, that doesn’t make any sense,” Patty joins in. She looks at Erin like she’s trying her hardest to understand, which she probably is. “I don’t think she’s stupid enough to really think she can try and break our team apart. You’re permanent.”

 

To Erin, their reactions right now are proof of how far April’s gotten in just a few months. Before they met her, they’d all been prepared to maim April with a metal pipe if she even _looked_ at Erin wrong. Now they thought she was just being paranoid. This conversation is getting nowhere fast.

 

“You know what? You’re right.” Erin smiles and gets up, brushing off her jeans. “Thanks guys, I think I was just having another moment of self-doubt, but I’ll be fine.” She goes into the kitchen to get her sandwich, even though she doesn’t feel very hungry.

 

* * *

 

 

She doesn’t think she can stand an evening of seeing April with Holtzmann, not when she feels isolated from the help of her other friends. Erin considers her options, and ultimately decides that she needs an outsider’s opinion on this whole mess. That’s how she ends up in the doorway of Liza’s office. Her eyes light up when she notices Erin, and she gestures for her to come in.

 

“I wasn’t expecting you, did you come by for another massage?” she asks, but her smile falters when she sees how miserable Erin looks.

 

“Actually, I know this is weird, but I need to tell you a lot of personal things so that you can tell me about what I should do? I definitely wouldn’t be doing this if I had other options, but I don’t.” Erin laughs awkwardly. “I mean, I know it’s sudden, and a lot to ask, but—“

 

Liza holds up a hand to stop her. “Erin, it’s _ok_. We’re friends, you can come to me for advice if you need to. Please, sit down and tell me everything.” Her voice is soothing and gentle.

 

Erin steadies herself and sits in the chair that Liza offers her, and then she spills her guts for an entire hour, _all_ of it, from the moment she and Holtzmann started going to the gym together all the way to her current situation. She leaves out no detail, not even the ones about her feelings for Holtzmann, and all the mistakes she’s made. Liza sits there and listens the entire time, she even locks her office door so that they aren’t interrupted.

 

“So,” Erin says weakly, feeling emotionally drained by her recounting of the circumstances, “what do you think I should do? I don’t want to stir up even more drama when it’s this close to the gala…”

 

Liza hums thoughtfully. “Well, if you’re going to wait to finally sort things out until after the gala, I suggest you do something to boost your confidence during the event. I propose that you take that great dress you bought, and run with it.”

 

“What do you mean?” Erin raises an eyebrow.

 

“I mean you should doll yourself up, so that there’s no way that April can outshine you. This is your night, not hers. Own it. And,” Liza winks, “based on what you’ve told me, and what I’ve seen for myself, there’s a good chance that she would drop off Holtzmann’s radar completely if you take your birthday look and turn it up several notches.”

 

“I really don’t know how much I _can_ doll-up,” Erin chuckles, reaching up to comb her fingers through her hair. It’s not like Erin’s ever really been _unhappy_ with her appearance, it’s just that she accepts that she’s average-looking, and honestly she hasn’t really put forth any effort in exploring her traditionally feminine side.

 

“Erin, I think you need to understand that looking good is something you choose on your own terms. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a ton of makeup and a push-up bra. You are in control of this, I’m merely suggesting that you should explore it and see if it would boost your ability to handle the evening. It can be really exciting and fun to feel like royalty for a night, and you _deserve_ to. You put so much hard work into what you do, Erin, and you deserve to fully enjoy the gala.”

 

Erin can’t help but smile. It’s been a long time, if ever, that she’s gotten such sincere words of encouragement. “Thank you, Liza. I think I really needed that.”

 

“On the subject of your issues with April and Holtzmann, I think I’m going to say something you already know and don’t want to hear: be honest. Tell her what you told me, and tell Patty and Abby too. It will make so much more sense to them if they know the real reason why you’re upset.”

 

Erin nods, looking down at the folded hands in her lap. “I know. You’re right.”

 

Liza nods. “They all really care about you. I’m sure they’ll understand if you let them know what’s really going on. Even if being honest is hard. And even if Holtzmann stands by her decision, after the awful things April has done, then at least you’ll know for sure, and then you can start to move on from this.”

 

With a deep breath, Erin meets Liza’s eyes. “I should’ve done that a long time ago, but it feels good to hear it from someone else. Thank you. I should probably get going.”

 

“It’s no problem, my door is always open for you.” Liza follows her over to said door. “Tell you what, I’ve got a salon appointment on April 11th. Would you want to come with me? We could make a day of it, maybe go shopping?”

 

Erin smiles at Liza, feeling relief for the first time in weeks. “That actually sounds great.”

 

“For the record,” Liza says before Erin can make it all the way out the door, “I think Holtzmann likes you, too.”

 

* * *

 

 

Erin puts up with April for the couple weeks leading up to the gala, including the fact that she bought Holtzmann an artsy bowtie that no doubt would match her dress. The only satisfaction Erin got out of it was that it had been poorly timed, and Holtz had been too absorbed in her work to give April the response she was looking for.

 

On April 11th, Erin goes out with Liza to explore the concept of “dolling up”. They meet at the salon Liza had mentioned, and looks through magazines full of hairstyles while Liza gets her nails done. She decides to get a trim and some subtle layers added to give her hair a different shape. Erin has had a bob since graduate school, so she supposes she’s due for a minor change.

 

They go shopping for a couple hours afterward, and to Erin’s surprise it’s actually _fun_. She’s never had a particularly pleasant experience when it comes to clothing stores, but Liza’s laid-back personality and encouragements make Erin inspired enough to pull her towards a Sephora store while they're at the mall.

 

“I just need some mascara, maybe?” This is the area of physical appearance with which Erin is least familiar. She has sensitive skin, and no time in her busy schedule for a full face of makeup every day. The only things she’s ever learned have been the basics.

 

“Ok, let’s look around.” Liza leads her though the store until they’ve gathered up a lipstick, blush, mascara and eyeliner marker for Erin.

 

“I don’t know how I feel about pointy objects near my eyes,” She inspects the eyeliner warily.

 

“Don’t worry, a marker is actually a lot easier to use than a pencil or liquid liner. All you have to do is keep your hand steady.”

 

 Abby is the first to comment on Erin’s hair, and the couple bags of clothes she’s carrying in with her.

 

“Where did you go off to?”

 

“Out with Liza,” Erin replies, smiling. She runs a hand through her slightly new hair. “Does this look alright?”

 

“Yeah, they did a good job with it.” Abby looks relieved that Erin is in a better mood. “I was worried about you for a while,” she admits.

 

“No need to,” Erin assures her, “I think I’m going to be ok.” She turns and heads upstairs to start practicing her eyeliner.


	13. Chapter 13

When April 18th rolls around, everyone is nervously pacing around the firehouse, trying to busy themselves with anything that’ll kill time.

               

“I should try working on a larger-scale way to neutralize ghosts,” Holtzmann ponders out loud while she pulls the coffee table aside for Erin to vacuum the rug underneath it. “Not anything huge, because, well,” she makes an explosion sound and spreads her hands apart for effect, “I’m talking something big for sure, but maybe only lasts a couple hours at a time. That way when we do award shows, or we go out someplace, we don’t have to worry as much.”

               

“How would that work?” Erin asks, focused more on getting underneath the couch.

               

“There are a couple ways, actually. The two that come to mind immediately would be a temporary shield over the city, or something that we somehow get up on the empire state building that would precisely and individually zap ghosts if it detected any.” Holtzmann hums. “But considering that the federal government probably isn’t just going to come miraculously increase our budget in the foreseeable future, a ghost shield sounds more plausible.”

               

Erin hums in agreement. It’s odd that in some cases, being nervous makes Holtzmann way chattier than usual. She’s not particularly in any mood to be impressed with her ingenuitive mind right now though, considering that mind may very well be attached to a mouth that’s kissing April.

               

It feels like ten lifetimes, but eventually the clock crawls to 5:00, and then Abby is curling her hair, and Patty is hobbling around on the heels of her feet while her toenails dry. April arrives, looking perfect as usual in a satin trumpet dress that steadily fades from white all the way down to black, her dark auburn hair is perfectly swirled and pinned into a bun and there are even little pearls scattered in the curls. She gets showered in compliments when the others see her, but she’s more interested in where Holtzmann is.

               

“Try her lab,” Abby suggests helpfully before she goes back to hair spraying. “And tell her that those socks better match!”

               

Erin is standing in her room in her underwear, trying to pump herself up for this night while her dress lays across her bedspread. “This is going to be easy,” she says as she stares at her reflection. “All I need to do is channel all my suppressed rage into being aggressively better than April.”

               

It’s annoying how much her recent life has been one big lesson about how self-assurance and confidence is the key to avoiding a lot of heartache, but she’s going to run with it. She’s going to look amazing, she’s going to knock Holtzmann’s argyle socks off, and she’s going to have an awesome time at this shindig.

               

Erin had put her hair in curlers and gotten a chance to dust them with the hairspray before Abby snatched the can away. She locks her bedroom door, for good measure, and starts slipping into her dress. Once that’s done, and she stops to appraise herself in her mirror, Erin sits at her desk and starts applying the makeup. She’s been watching tons of tutorials on YouTube, so she hopes it pays off. Next is to free her hair from the curlers, and brush them out so that they aren’t as tight. The last thing she needs is for Holtz to be reminded of the way she looked in high school.

               

The final product is more than Erin had hoped for. She looks good, really good, even though she’s doused herself in perfume to mask any nervous sweating. It’s closing in on 6:30 when Abby knocks on her door. “Erin, you getting finished up in there?”

               

“Yeah, just a second.” Erin promises, and hears the clicks of Abby’s heels retreating back downstairs. She gets to the living room to find that almost everyone is ready to go, even Kevin, who is a major space case. Of course it had to be two specific people who were missing.

               

“Er, can you go back up and get them down?” Abby asks. “I would, but this dress is pretty near impossible to get up the stairs.”

               

Erin takes a deep breath and makes her way back up. It’ll be ok, all she has to do is poke her head into Holtzmann’s lab and tell them to get their butts down there so that they can all go have an amazing night. Of course, it could _never_ be that simple. That was apparently too much to ask for.

               

When Erin gets up to Holtz’s lab, she can’t hear any music, and when she walks in, she sees April with her arms wrapped around Holtzmann’s waist, their mouths practically _mashing_ together. Repulsed, and immediately regretting _everything_ , Erin runs back downstairs before either of them notice, and she doesn’t stop when she gets to the bottom.

               

“Erin, where are you going? Where are Holtzmann and April?” Abby calls after her, obviously shocked and confused that her best friend is sprinting out of the building when they’re only minutes away from being taken to the gala.

               

“I have something to take care of!” Erin yells over her shoulder, internally congratulating herself for not sounding devastated. “I’ll be there by seven, I promise!” She’s out of the building before anyone can argue with her about what’s so important that she needs to do it rather than ride in a limousine to Radio City Music Hall.            

               

Thankfully, Erin jogged for a couple blocks, so if anyone had gone out after her, she had lost them. As another bit of good luck, she’d actually remembered to take her purse, which contained important items such as her invitation, and her cell phone.

               

Speaking of her phone, she could _feel_ it buzzing with a calls or rapid-fire texts as she walked past a series of restaurants. She made no move to open her purse to check them, even if a class four ghost had somehow manifested right after she left and was currently terrorizing the firehouse. There were three other Ghostbusters there, if Holtzmann bothered to peel herself off her new girlfriend long enough to grab a proton pack. And, Erin thought bitterly, maybe if the ghost was a lady who had someone interested in dating her, April could just seduce her and they’d all be saved. Then she could become an official member of the team, and, relieved of her duty, Erin could retire to a nice big hole she crawl into and die in. Yep, what an inviting thought.

               

The sun was setting, and the night crowd was beginning to come out. Erin was positive that she looked majorly out of place. In Erin’s absentmindedness, her feet had carried her _Terry’s._ For lack of anywhere else to go, she ducks inside and goes to Liza’s office.

               

“Erin!” She looks surprised, then worried. “What are you doing here? Isn’t the gala at seven?”

               

Erin just shakes her head, feeling tired. “Maybe I just need to sit this one out, and gather my strength to deal with the situation after tonight is over.”

               

“What are you talking about? You look _fantastic_ , why aren’t you on your way there right now?”

               

Erin explains the new situation to Liza, and _almost_ manages not to sound like her heart has finally taken one hit too many.

               

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Liza is frowning, she looks like she’s at a loss here. “I understand if you really don’t want to go, but I’m going to say this: you’re wearing a seven hundred dollar dress, you have _at least_ two friends who are really worried about you right now, and _you_ are the guest of honor at this thing. You should go enjoy the night for what it is, even if you had hoped it would be more. Have some champagne, dance a little, and bask in the glow of all the attention.”

               

Erin smiles weakly at Liza. “I should probably stop relying on you for pep talks.”

               

“Everyone has their low-points and needs someone around to help them get back on their feet. I’m glad I can do that for you.” Liza returns the smile, and pats Erin’s shoulder encouragingly. “You should probably go hail a cab before you’re late.”


	14. Chapter 14

The cab ride is surreal. First of all, the driver seemed surprised to pick up someone dressed as nice as Erin from a gym, and was even more surprised that she was going to Radio City Music Hall, which was being broadcasted about over the radio. And then Hillary Duff’s _What Dreams Are Made Of_ comes on, and Erin decides that she’s officially entered the Twilight Zone.

               

It’s past seven when they finally get through the immense traffic and roll up to the front. Erin shoves a wad of bills into the driver’s hand before launching herself out of the cab and rushing to the front doors. She fumbles to get her invitation out of her purse, but eventually she’s waved through and stumbles into the darkened auditorium, cursing under her breath the entire way. With several hushed apologies, and going to all the wrong aisles of seats first, Erin finally finds her friends and silently takes her seat at the end of the row, beside Abby.

               

“Where have you _been_?” she hisses, obviously caught between worried and furious. There are already speakers on the stage, welcoming the large crowd to the event.

               

“I’ll explain everything later,” Erin replies, feeling just a little guilty. “For now let’s all get through this in one piece.”

               

Abby looks like she wants to question Erin’s meaning, but then the mayor takes the stage to give his speech and begin awarding medals. Police officers and firefighters go first, honored for their heroic efforts that went above and beyond the call of duty. Next are handful of random people who’ve done amazing things like pulling someone from a burning car, or talking someone out of jumping from a building. Next are those who have devoted a lot of their time to charity work for the betterment of the city. Eventually, the mayor takes the podium again with a big smile.

               

“Finally, what you’ve all been waiting for, I present the Ghostbusters! These four women have truly done amazing work for New York, and all while changing the face of modern science as we know it.” Each one of them are rolling their eyes at his words, but stand up nevertheless, and make the journey up to the stage.

               

From Erin’s new position in the auditorium, she can see all the way out to the very back corners of the room, and all the smiling faces looking up at her and applauding. Suddenly, everything falls away and her problems don’t matter for the moment, because she’s standing up here with the mayor of freaking New York City, in Radio City _freaking_ Music Hall, and the audience is giving the _Ghostbusters_ a standing ovation.

 

Erin doesn’t think she’ll ever stop smiling, it’s all so unreal and yet she feels more grounded than she has in months. The nine-year-old who craved her parent’s validation, and the sixteen-year-old who ran to escape the grasp of depression are suddenly a million miles behind her. She hears Holtzmann whooping like a madwoman, and Abby giving a brief speech, before the mayor appears in front of Erin, holding a medal out. She quickly bows her head, and feels the weight of it around her neck.

 

“One more round of applause for these remarkable women!” Jennifer has taken the podium, and gestures to them with a smile that just might be sincere. The crowd once again roars with applause, until the girls return to their seats.

 

In a whirlwind of people congratulating her and guiding her along a series of hallways to the reception, Erin suddenly finds herself entering a brightly-lit ballroom, outfitted with a dancefloor, a bar, and several large tables complete with fancy place settings.

 

She had lagged behind and was the last to arrive at their reserved table. In the lighting, Erin could finally see that Holtzmann was wearing a perfectly tailored tuxedo, and her unruly hair had been styled into somewhat of a pompadour. She’s sitting next to April, who looks immaculate as ever, and Patty is seated on the other side of her. They all look up at Erin when she comes over, all of them wearing various expressions of irritation, worry, and, in Holtzmann’s case, complete awe. The one person Erin rests her eyes on is April, who looks like she’s barely containing her astonishment.

 

With a smirk, Erin sits down between Abby and Kevin. Her best friend elbows her ribs half-heartedly. “You better have a damn good explanation for this tomorrow.” She looks like she too doesn’t want to waste the night on arguing and sorting out issues that aren’t immediately pressing.

 

“I’ll tell you everything,” Erin promises, and even though she’s being serious, her smile returns quickly. Abby can’t hold a frown either, and giggles excitedly.

 

“Can you believe this?” She holds up her medal to inspect it. “Erin, this is more than we ever could’ve hoped for.”

 

“Let’s make sure to kick even more ass this year,” Erin replies. “Big breakthroughs, big busts, and maybe less slime.”

 

Holtzmann smiles and raises her glass, “I’ll drink to that.”

 

The rest of the table do the same, until April is scrambling to also raise her glass. She looks like she’s been thrown off her game, which Erin takes immense satisfaction in.

 

The food and music are fancy. Erin is mildly surprised that they brought in a string quartet in addition to the DJ who was setting up in the back of the room, but it made sense that there was soft music for dining and conversing, and dance music for later when all these socialites were drunk enough to get on the dancefloor.

 

During the meal, several people come over to their table to shake their hands. April attempts to pull attention to herself throughout, and fails. Holtzmann is invested in a conversation with Patty and her date, who owns a used car dealership, about the prospect of an Ecto 3 that would serve as an unmarked vehicle that could be used for road trips and off-duty outings.

 

“Okay Holtzy, you tell me where we’re going to put another car, and I’ll _consider_ it,” Patty is crossing her arms while Michael, her date, chuckles. “Because between the hearse, that dinky little motorcycle, and all your scrap metal, I just don’t see it happening."

 

“I could _expand_ the garage.” Holtzmann proposes. “I bet Kevin would help me. Right Kev?”

 

Kevin looks up and grins. “Yes! Also, what are you guys talking about?”

 

Abby huffs. “Nobody is _expanding_ anything. Holtzmann, maybe if you could clear out the dragon’s hoard in there, we would have enough room to look at fitting in another car."

 

“First of all, dragons hoard _gold,_ everyone knows that, and I have no use for gold because it’s a soft, mushy metal. Secondly, nobody would even _notice_ it if we go in, take out a wall and bring it out a little more. Everyone wins.”

               

Erin is content to listen to the group debate, the familiar banter between them is comforting.

               

“Er, back me up here, will you? Before Tarzan and Wreck-It Ralph over here go and destroy our home?” Abby looks at her expectantly.

               

She's caught between wanting to argue that maybe a bigger garage would solve their space issues without Holtzmann having to sacrifice her stockpile of metal that would eventually be made into useful equipment, and wanting to agree just to spite Holtzmann.

               

“I think we can park the car out front,“ she decides finally. “No one messes up the garage, and we have another car. Or we can bring this up later, when we aren’t riding a victory high and getting buzzed on champagne?” Everyone seems to shrug and agree.

               

* * *

 

 

Eventually, the string quartet put their instruments away, and DJ starts asking for requests. Erin excuses herself to the bathroom, because two glasses of ice tea _and_ a glass of champagne was too much liquid to have in one’s bladder before dancing. She’s washing her hands when April comes in, obviously a little tipsy.

               

“I can’t _believe_ you,” she says venomously, like Erin is supposed to know exactly what she’s talking about.

               

“Can’t believe what?”

               

“ _You_. You come waltzing in, make your big dramatic entrance after everyone else has already sat down, and Jillian suddenly doesn’t even know I exist? Are you _kidding me_ Erin? I know you’re desperate, but come on.”

               

Erin tries to hide her mirth, she really does, but she can’t help it when her sister is spouting such _ironic_ bull shit at her. She’s all-too happy to revisit the last conversation they had.

               

“I’m really sorry if Jillian, or really any of my friends, prefer talking to me over you, April.” The triumphant smirk spreads across Erin’s face, despite the fact that pissing April off won’t necessarily change anything. “You might have been Jillian’s choice, and there’s nothing I can do about that, but what I have complete and utter control over is how _you_ make me feel, and I’m tired of feeling shitty just because _you_ think I should. Whether you like it or not, this is _my_ team, and those are _my_ friends, so deal with it like an adult.” April stands there, stunned, and Erin realizes just how passive her sister must’ve assumed she was.

               

“I can’t believe my _own sister_ would say that to me.” April sounds positively scandalized. “Now I’m not even _sorry_ that I stole Jillian from you. She deserves someone who takes what they want instead of betraying the people who trust them--”

               

“I think that’s enough.”

 

Both women freeze, and look over to see Holtzmann leaning in the doorway, wearing a hard expression.

 

“ _Jillian_ , I didn’t mean—“

 

Holtzmann holds up her hand. “You’ve said _plenty,_ April. I don’t think you want to dig yourself any deeper.” April looks at her, indignant.

 

“What are you talking about, digging myself deeper? You should be on _my_ _side_ , especially since we’re _officially_ together now.”

 

“Ok, _first_ of all where was _I_ when we became ‘official’--”

 

“You _kissed_.” The words escape Erin’s mouth before she can stop them.

 

Holtzmann doesn’t look embarrassed, or surprised, she looks _mortified_. “You saw that?”

 

Erin diverts her eyes, wanting nothing more than to break into a dead sprint for the door.

 

“Erin, look at me.” She does, but the feeling she gets when she meets Holtz’s eyes is verging on physically painful. “What you saw was April savagely trying to gnaw my lips off with her teeth. Without my permission, I might add. Not a real kiss.”

 

Erin glances from Holtzmann to April, whose flushed face and embarrassed scowl back up the blonde’s explanation. Holtzmann continues.

 

“In the spirit of bathroom honesty, here’s the truth: I _really_ like you, Erin.” Her meaning is unmistakable. Erin’s heart races.

 

 “And I don’t really like _you_ , April, especially not now. It wasn’t right for me to lead you on, and it wasn’t right for me to see you behind Erin’s back. I’ve been a real jackass to you both.” April and Erin both stare at Holtzmann in shock. “I’ve got to say though, I feel a lot less sorry for you now that I know you’ve been emotionally abusing my friend this whole time.”

 

April glares at the floor. “It’s _her_ fault. She’s the one who got between _us_.”

 

“Darlin’, there never was an ‘us’, not like that. We went and stared at paintings a couple times, and we went bowling once, which wasn’t even very fun.”

 

April purses her lips and moves her death-stare to Holtzmann. “So what does _she_ even _have_ that I don’t?”

 

“Oh, you want a list? Let’s see, she’s got a whole lot more in common with me, she’s _nice_ , she’s beautiful, she has integrity and self-respect, and when I talk about my machines she can actually engage me in conversation instead of just smiling and nodding.” Holtzmann is counting on her fingers.

 

April’s nostrils flare, and she looks like she’s one word away from screaming. “You know what? You’re both **idiots** , and you _deserve_ each other! I never want to see either of you again!” She storms out, leaving Erin and Holtzmann alone in the giant bathroom.

 

Holtz looks tired, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is why I don’t even bother with relationships anymore, it always just becomes a big mess.”

 

Erin looks at her sympathetically, but all she can think about is _Erin, I really like you_. “We should probably go out there, before people start to think there’s a ghost in here or something.”

 

“The only ghost in here was that banshee,” Holtzmann replies with a wary smirk.

 

The rest of the night is uneventful, by comparison. Abby asks where April’s gone, and Erin says that she’s added it to the list of things she’s going to explain, which her friend begrudgingly accepts. They eventually all get up to dance, and Holtzmann pulls Erin aside, wrapping one arm around her waist. “We need to talk about this later,” she mutters into her hear while they sway to a slow dance.

 

“Agreed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> current mood: Erin being #unbothered by April
> 
> P.S. the response to this fic has blown me away. I've been working on it and posting it all week because it's fun for me, but I honestly didn't expect to have this many people read it, much less enjoy it  
> so THANK YOU for all the kudos and comments, they make me smile


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the link in this chapter takes you to an actual playlist I made on 8tracks, but you don't have to listen to it for plot relevance, it's just a little extra fluff

Erin had to agree that the limousine ride was amazing. She could see why rich kids sprang for them when they went to prom. They made stops at Kevin’s apartment complex, and Michael’s house before taking the girls home to the firehouse. Patty goes straight to bed, and Abby follows close behind, desperate to get a shower. Holtzmann and Erin share a look.

               

“How about we talk in my room?” she suggests, and the engineer nods in agreement.

               

“I’m going to go do something real quick, give me just a couple minutes.” Holtzmann bounds up the stairs without an explanation, so Erin huffs and goes to her room. While she waits for her friend to join her, Erin kicks her shoes into her closet and wipes off her makeup. Within five minutes, Holtz appears in her doorway, sans suit jacket and bowtie.

               

“Have a seat,” Erin says awkwardly from her spot on the bed, and Holtz makes sure to shut the door before sitting down on her desk chair, fiddling with a small, flat object in her hands.

               

“Should you go first or should I go first?” she asks. Erin pauses for a moment.

               

“You go first.”

               

“Alright,” Holtz sets the item on Erin’s desk, “prepare yourself. I’ve never been a good one for words.”

               

“Neither am I. Go ahead.” Erin shifts so that she sits cross-legged on her mattress.

 

“So, ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even when you were the Erin that Abby talked shit about on a regular basis. Somehow, my brain separated you from that person. Then Ghostbusting happened, and then lab partnerships happened, and I thought, who could possibly be better for me than you?

 

“I realized I was getting nowhere fast with just the flirting, so I decided to change tactics and get some alone time with you. So we became gym buddies. And then I was even _more_ smitten. But things got weird. You started avoiding me, and then Abby said that it was probably because of some emotional reason, because we all seem to be constipated in that respect. So I realized that we never had that conversation from all the way back in December, and I thought, maybe it was something to do with all of that.

 

“But when we talked about it, you looked me in the eye and told me that there was nothing to talk about, which hurt me. So I kind of wanted to hurt you back, a little bit.” Holtz looks painfully uncomfortable. “So I hung out with April even though I knew that you were worried that she was trying to replace you. I guess that in a really weird way, I was trying to pursue the next best thing to you? But April _isn’t_ you.

 

“No matter how hard I tried to look at her and think of you, it wasn’t the same. We mixed like oil and water, she tried to get me under my skin, but she doesn’t understand how I work at all. She kept talking to me while I was welding and it kind of drove me nuts.” Holtz sighs, looking guilty. “Um, anyway, I’m kind of a mess, so I’m really sorry that I did any of that to you. And I’m sorry that I let you think that I didn’t like you, because I do.”

 

Erin nods as she processes the information. She tries not to get swept up in all the nice parts of what Holtzmann has said, because she needs to be at least a _little_ objective about this.

 

“Ok, my turn I guess.” Erin meets her eyes and thinks to herself that this is so much easier, now that she knows what’s going on in Holtzmann’s Chinese puzzle box of a brain. She takes a deep breath.

 

“It’s funny that you say you’ve liked me since we met, because for me, I think I knew when I saw you dance for the first time. I’ve been trying so hard to stop thinking about you that way, but I’ve come to realize that it’s impossible. And also, that maybe you like me too, so I shouldn’t not want to. If that makes any sense at all.” Holtzmann nods.

 

“Ok, well anyway, when I went home for Christmas, I had the argument with my mom. She made some rude comments about you, and it was pretty much the last straw. I realized that my feelings were, ah, stronger than I thought they were, and my brain immediately decided that I should avoid you…” Erin explains the situation with April, the way she behaved, how bad she’d been hurting over this, quickly adding that it was mostly self-inflicted.

 

“I should’ve just been honest with you. I guess I’m just really… _weird_.”

 

“If it’s any consolation, I think your weird matches my weird.” Holtzmann winks at Erin.

 

“Do you want to be weird together…?” Erin wears a small smile, and for once she isn’t afraid of feeling hopeful.

 

“I think it’s been a long, emotional night, and we should sleep on it,” Holtzmann replies thoughtfully.

 

Erin nods. “That’s fair.”

 

“But I’m gonna say the odds are stacked in your favor. Here,” she tosses the square-shaped thing that she’d set on the desk to Erin, who manages to catch it moments before it hits her in the face.

 

“What’s this?”

 

Holtzmann gets up and heads out the door. “Consider it a token of my affections.”

               

Once she’s alone in her room, Erin rips off the paper to reveal a CD case. The cover is obviously customized: it’s a slime graphic with the title[ “Erin’s Birthday Mix” printed at the bottom in Fixedsys font.](http://8tracks.com/satorikatana/erin-s-birthday-mix) On the back is a track list, but Erin chooses to open the case instead of being spoiled. Inside is a green disk with her name on it in black Sharpie, and a note that reads “I seem to remember you requested a mixed tape? It’s not Swayze-themed, but they all remind me of you in some way or another. Don’t question it. – H”

               

So of course Erin has to dig out her old CD player and listen to the entire thing. She falls asleep in her dress, with headphones on and a smile on her face.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, as promised, Erin sits down with Abby and Patty and tells them everything. Holtzmann sits next to her and occasionally adds her own account for extra detail.

               

Abby looks choked up. “Oh my _god_ , Erin. We pulled a Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert on you. I feel so guilty.”

               

“It’s not like I had any proof,” Erin rubs her own arm.

               

“But we should’ve believed you anyway.” Patty puts in. “We really are sorry, Erin.”

               

“You’re forgiven, I promise. I’m just glad it’s behind us.”

               

“So,” Abby glances at Patty before turning her attention to Erin and Holtzmann, smirking. “What about you guys, then?”

               

“It’s a surprise,” Holtz replies. “Who knows? A Vegas elopement? Will we go adopt five cat-children from the pound?”

               

Erin rolls her eyes. “We’re going to talk about it. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that communication is key.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm wrapping this story up in the next chapter or so, but I'm considering writing another HoltzBert soon. Any suggestions? AUs? Oneshots? I'm open to prompts too


	16. Chapter 16

“Ok, let’s get it right this time.” Erin tugs at her blouse and steadies herself, trying to treat this as a business meeting instead of a discussion about romantic feelings. Holtzmann is standing just a few feet away, wearing a look of endearment at the brunette’s numerous quirks.

 

“Shall we step into my office?” she gestures towards her lab, and Erin nods. Once the door is shut behind them, Holtz takes her duct taped-up chair and Erin takes the greasy stool.

               

“So,” Erin crosses her legs and folds her hands over her knee. She’s trying to contain her excitement, and failing. Holtzmann pretends not to notice for her sake.

               

“We’ve slept on this matter, as agreed. Have you reached your verdict?”

               

“Why are you speaking so formally?”

               

“I’m just trying to be professional. After all, you’re wearing the sexy lawyer outfit today.”

               

Erin feels her face grow hot, and glares at Jillian despite the smile that creeps onto her face. “Be _serious_.”

               

“I’m _trying_. And you’re avoiding.” Holtzmann looks at Erin expectantly.

               

“I want to hear what you think first.”

               

Holtzmann hums thoughtfully. “I have laid out our data, as it were, and weighed the pros and cons of a romantic relationship in addition to our friendship and business partnership. The cons being that there’s a chance that we’ll have a horrible breakup someday that tears apart the Ghostbusters, and the pros being literally everything else.”

               

Erin shifts uncomfortably on the stool, suddenly feeling dread in the pit of her stomach. “But that _is_ a really big con, Holtz.”

               

“It also probably _won’t_ happen. It’s just something to consider, is what I mean. There are a lot of uncertainties in our lives. We have a dangerous job, we accept risks every day for a living.” Holtzmann lowers her voice. “This whole side of the city could get leveled every time I turn on my blowtorch, but it _doesn’t_. Because I know what could go wrong and I do my best to avoid it. And that’s all we have to do here.”

               

“So you’re saying our relationship would be like a highly volatile piece of equipment and we’re the engineers trying not to make it _explode_.” Erin is feeling more uncertain by the minute.

               

“More or less. But as long as we know what _could_ happen without freaking out over it and unnecessarily stressing it, we can acknowledge it and steer away from it. And if someday either one of us can see the end of the line, we should be able to tell each other and come to an amicable break, since neither of us want to hate each other or split up the team. The metaphorical highly volatile equipment we’re building together could be groundbreaking and amazing, so let’s accept the risks.”

               

Erin is quiet for a moment, wondering how Holtz could be equal parts awkward, bizarre, and wise. Somehow, what she said made perfect sense, despite likening love to a potential nuclear bomb. “You think we should be together, even though I could eventually hurt you, or you could hurt me?”

               

“I think it would be worth it.”

               

When Erin chews her lip and looks down at the floor, now reconsidering the weight of their hypothetical relationship, Holtzmann scoots her chair across to where Erin is seated until they’re facing each other with their knees touching. She takes her hand.

               

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to. Or we can wait if we need to.”

               

Erin squeezes Jillian’s hand. “I _do_ want to. It’s just, a lot could go _wrong_.”

               

“I’m not very experienced with these things, but I’m going to take a crack at it anyway. Your friendship with Abby?”

               

“What about it?”

               

“You hurt her. Aren’t you afraid you might do that again?”

               

“…yes.” Erin furrows her brows, wondering why Holtz is bringing up more negative feelings.

               

“So does that mean the two of you shouldn’t be friends anymore, because you might hurt her again someday?”

               

“No, of course not—“

               

“Why not?”

               

Erin suddenly sees what she’s getting at. “Because it’s too important not to try.”

               

“Exactly.”

               

Erin can’t take it anymore, so she leans forward and kisses Holtzmann instead of trying to explain away why being together would be a bad idea. She uses the hand not holding Holtz’s to cup her face. Holtzmann, who is slightly surprised, takes a moment before she turns her head slightly and leans forward in her chair to rest her free hand on Erin’s waist.

               

When they break apart, they both just stare at each other for a moment. Holtzmann’s thumb is gently rubbing Erin’s side, and she’s looking into her eyes in a way that would make Erin weak at the knees if they were standing right now.

               

“Do you feel better about taking the risk now?” Holtzmann is smiling like she couldn’t be happier in this moment.

               

Erin nods. “I think we’re going to be fine. We always are, eventually,” she replies before kissing her again.

 

* * *

 

 

The next couple of days are a blur of busts, Chinese food debates with Benny, and putting finishing touches on the ghost dissector. Holtzmann seems very confident in its success.

 

Abby and Patty, who were immediately notified of Erin and Holtz’s relationship once it had become official, both conveyed their happiness and approval of the new couple. A lot of aspects of their daily lives remained exactly the same, except now Erin and Holtzmann had date nights, and Patty had walked in the kitchen once and caught them kissing. Holtzmann also had apparently been saving up a ton of terms of endearment, and was throwing more at Erin than she knew how to respond to. She couldn’t tell if Holtz just thought it was funny, or if she was genuinely so excited that she was using as many nicknames as possible. Erin didn’t mind either way.

 

They started going back to the gym together, which made Liza very happy. She handed them both a white envelope when they came in one afternoon, which turned out to be an invitation to her and Terry’s wedding. Holtzmann had enthusiastically replied that she already had a tuxedo for such an occasion, and Erin hugged her, because she was excited for her friend but also because Liza had done so much for her in the past months and had never gotten a proper “thank you”.

 

Once everything had almost returned to normal, the phone rang. Kevin called Erin down one day and informed her that a woman had wanted to speak with her, but he had been too focused on his latest jigsaw puzzle to catch her name. Anxiety coiled in Erin’s gut. With either woman that came to mind, this wasn’t good. She asked if the woman left a message or anything, and Kevin handed her a sticky note with a somewhat-legible phone number written on it.

 

“What do I do?” she asked as she paced around the lab. Holtzmann was dutifully listening to her girlfriend voice her panic while she worked on the last of the wiring for the dissector.

 

“For starters, you should probably call that number to see if it’s your terrible mother or your even worse sister, and then you should take it from there. Worst case scenario, hang up.”

 

Erin groans and sits on the stool, absently wheeling around the room. “You’re right, I just really don’t want to.”

 

“If you do it anyway, then when I’m done with this I’ll take you out to get ice cream.”

 

“Fine,” Erin sighs digs out her phone from her pocket. It rings several times before her mother picks up.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Mom?” Erin tries not to sound too harsh, but that’s exactly how it comes out.

               

“Oh thank god, I was worried the dim British man who answered the phone earlier wasn’t going to relay my message to you.”

               

“I think he’s Australian, and no, he only gave me your number. Why did you call?”

               

“I wanted to know if I could come see you.”

               

It startles Erin, who has almost always had to make the reach to see her mom. She recalls the last time Amelia Gilbert was in New York City was when Erin had just started out at Columbia.

               

“ _Why_?”

               

“I know why you’re suspicious, and why you probably don’t want to see me. But I want to come visit you and understand what you’re doing. Erin, I _want_ to understand.”

               

“I don’t want you to come here if you’re just going take one look at everything and start criticizing me.”

               

Amelia sighs. “If I criticize you, you can tell me and I’ll promise to stop. I promise. Just…please give me a chance? I’m trying to make amends.”

               

Erin glances at Holtzmann, who is wiping off her hands on her favorite dirty rag. “Ok. You can come. But I’m going to hold you to your promise.”

               

“I’ll call you when I get into the city.” Erin doesn’t reply, so Amelia takes the hint and hangs up.

               

Holtzmann has turned around to look at Erin, pulling her goggles to rest up on her forehead. “Everything alright?”

               

Erin lets the hand that’s holding her phone to her ear fall to her lap. “It was my mom. She wants to come here and visit.”

               

“Is that good or bad?”

               

“I don’t know yet.”

               

Amelia came two days later, after calling Erin a second time to confirm that it wouldn’t intrude on her work schedule. Abby seemed to have a mixed reaction to the news, due to what she’d heard about the recent argument, and her own personal opinion of Mrs. Gilbert. Patty was neutral but supportive. Holtzmann, on the other hand, is slowly losing her composure over it. At first, she seemed to be mostly concerned with how Erin was dealing with her mother’s imminent arrival, but once Erin seemed to be relatively relaxed, it was Holtzmann’s turn to be nervous. On the day Amelia was due to get to the Firehouse, she asked Erin about a half a dozen times what she should wear. It was pretty cute, if Erin was being honest. Holtzmann could look a ghost in the eye with a grin and a joke, but when it came to a woman no taller than Abby, she was suddenly doubting herself.

               

“It’s ok, I promise,” she says to Holtz in a soothing voice, kissing her cheek. “If she doesn’t like you, she can leave.”

               

Holzmann frowns down at her mismatched socks. “Maybe I should change into the good overalls?”

               

“You look _fine,_ ” Erin assures her. She goes downstairs when Abby calls to her, and then there’s Amelia in a skirt suit, gazing around the firehouse with wide eyes.

               

“Mother,” Erin takes a deep breath and tries to steel herself for the conversation they’re probably about to have. Amelia meets her eyes, looking guilt-stricken. She approaches Erin slowly.

               

“Erin, do you think you could show me around?”

               

Erin obliges her mother, and to her surprise she is quiet and appreciative, even, as they walk around the first floor. She asks questions about some of the machines in the back, which Erin answers to the best of her ability. She’s showing her to the wall where their proton packs are proudly displayed when Holtzmann shows up, her arms folded behind her back.

               

“Oh, mom. This is, this is Jillian.”

               

Holtzmann musters an awkward smile, taking a few steps forward to offer her hand to Mrs. Gilbert. “I’m the blonde butch one you’ve heard so much about.”

               

Amelia blanches, then looks away in embarrassment as she shakes Hotlz’s hand. “Yes. There’s no way for me to say how sorry I am. I was rude and ignorant.”

               

Holtzmann’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and Erin stands there for a moment, speechless. “Well, you don’t hear that every day.”

               

“I did some thinking, actually, after you left on the 26th. A _lot_ of thinking. You’ve never spoken to me like that before, Erin. I was shocked, to say the least.” Amelia looks between the two of them, clasping her hands together in the same way Erin does when she’s nervous.

               

“At first, I was just angry. I didn’t understand why you would say such things to me, why you would get so upset about things that weren't true. I waited to see if you would call to apologize, but when you didn’t…well, then I was alone in an empty house. I started thinking about what you said, and the way you looked when you left. So, I went on YouTube and watched footage of you while you were ‘on-duty’, taken from the phones of passerby. And you two,” She looks at Holtzmann. “I never realized that it could be so…sweet. The way you look at each other.”

               

“So what did you _think_ happened exactly? Lesbians and bisexual ladies do a specific kind of fist bump and then hook up in their semi-truck, or a log cabin?” Holtzmann looks caught between interested and offended.

               

“I just assumed that it was a purely sexual thing, a choice or a tendency to engage with other women. I made a lot of assumptions that I’m very ashamed of now. I went through the internet, and then I bought several books on the topic. Erin, Jillian, I want to apologize to you both. I had no right to pass judgment on something I didn’t understand. Both of your experiences are valid. I can't say that I'm completely comfortable with it yet, even after all I've learned, but Erin I would do anything if it means I can be a part of your life again.”

               

Erin is completely stunned, unable to discern whether or not she's just hallucinated this entire conversation. Her mother is standing in front of them, saying every single thing she’s been dying to hear for years.

               

“I also took the liberty of reading many of your publications, Jillian. I must say, I’m _very_ impressed with your work, and you seem quite lovely in person. My daughter is lucky to have you.” Holtzmann turns to gawk at Erin, but she’s still trying to process what she’s hearing.

               

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m pretty impressed myself right now. Not too many parents can make a turnaround like you have.” Holtz looks like she knows from personal experience. “Do you want to hear about my current work?”

               

“That would be lovely.” Mrs. Gilbert manages a smile, and they start heading upstairs. Erin follows behind them in a haze.

               

Once they enter the lab, Erin watches her girlfriend animatedly describe her machines to Amelia in terms that she can understand but aren’t condescending. Eventually, they get to the ghost-dissector, and Holtzmann makes sure to call Erin over.

               

“Erin’s latest research on ectoplasm lead her to conceive this beaut.” Holtz pats the machine cautiously. “It’s a ghost dissector, and once we get a few test runs, it’ll be able to take a ghost apart so that we can study the anatomy."

               

Amelia looks at the machine in awe, and then to her daughter. “You two made this together?”

               

Erin nods almost hesitantly. “Yes, we’ve been working for a couple months now. I’ve done a lot of the calculations, and Jillian made it a reality.”

               

Amelia smiles and takes Erin’s hand, squeezing it gently. “You make a good team.”

               

Erin meets Holtzmann’s eyes over her mother’s shoulder and smiles, too. “We do.”

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the day goes just as well. Erin tries her best to enjoy it, but she can’t help but wait for her mother to suddenly say “It was all an elaborate prank! You’re written out of my will and you’re going to burn in hell!” and leave the firehouse soap-opera style. But she never does, and then they all go out to dinner together, and it’s calm and fun, even. Her mother still shows moments of skepticism when they discuss their work, but she keeps an open mind throughout.

               

When they finish eating, Amelia goes to her hotel for the night, and Erin stays up later than the others, thinking about how much of a left turn this whole thing took. She would meet her mother for lunch the next day before she left, and hopefully by then she would be able to form coherent thoughts about the whole situation.

               

Holtzmann flops down on the couch beside Erin, handing her a mug of tea. “I have to say that your mom really blew me away today.”

               

Erin scoots closer, and Holtz moves her arm to put it around her shoulders. “She shocked me too. I thought she was just going to storm in and throw a fit and then leave when I didn’t apologize.”

               

“So how do you feel about it now?”

               

“Cautiously optimistic,” Erin replies, taking a drink from her cup.

               

“It’s good that you’re patching things up. Wish I could with my birth mother, but she cursed my gay ass ‘til her dying breath.” Holzmann says it so cavalier, like she’s talking about the weather. “Only cancer could bring that womandown.”

               

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

               

“It’s not as big a deal as everyone thinks. I have a real mom still, she just isn’t related to me.”

               

“Doctor Gorin?”

               

“Yeah, she’s my mom of choice. Family is what you make it to be, not what you’re born into. Not a lot of people seem to grasp that concept.”

               

Erin hums. “You say some pretty profound things sometimes.”

               

“Gotta break up the weirdness occasionally,” Holtz smiles at Erin and kisses her forehead. “Otherwise I’m just the freaky lesbian who completely disregards fire safety procedures.”

               

“No you aren’t,” Erin argues, turning her head slightly to get a better look at Holtzmann. “You’re a lot more than that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all for this fic, thank you for reading!
> 
> I'll be starting a new multi-chapter HoltzBert fic soon, but I'm also open to AU or one-shot ideas,or prompts if anyone has any suggestions or requests.


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